The Best of Intentions
by DeniseV
Summary: Bad things happen on the road back from delivering a prisoner. It's nearly Christmas and it looks like seven might soon become six. Will there be a Merry Christmas in Four Corners?


"What time izzit?"

An annoyed and not-at-all-quiet sigh was heard two bedrolls down.

"Ez, ya done asked that near every hour since … "

"Mah apologies, Mistah Wilmin'ton," the gambler Ezra Standish mumbled as he interrupted the lean former Texas Ranger. "Ah remembah," the card sharp continued as he reached for his aching head and winced at the added pain the momentary touch from his fingertips caused. He frowned at the weight of the heavy bandage around his head. "Ah remembah," he repeated, "that Ah injured mahself … "

Buck Wilmington doubted that he did.

"You didn't _'injure yourself'_, Ez. Someone hurt ya." Buck watched as the sudden raise in his voice made the hurt lawman jump. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be short with you, or hurt you more," he added, making a concerted effort to keep his voice low.

"No need to apologize. Ah recognize that you are dealin' with mah addled self and with our compatriot's far more serious injury."

"Don't need to talk about me like I ain't here," J.D. Dunne said as he sat propped up against a tree. "And I ain't so sure that I'm hurt worse. You're the one who's asked what time it is … like a dozen times."

"Now J.D.," Buck started with the young man who had grown to feel like a kid brother to him. "Ya both are hurt. This ain't a contest."

It had been one helluva four days.

Buck Wilmington, Ezra Standish and J.D. Dunne were assigned the task of transporting Abner Fordham to Durango. Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner rode along with them as far as Cortez, where they would meet up with the judge. None of the seven peacekeepers that Judge Orrin Travis hired to protect the town of Four Corners, the town they all now called home, volunteered for this job. It was well-known that the ride to Durango was a long one and a real son-of-a-bitch. Once Buck accepted that he was going to be among the three who would escort Fordham the entire way to Durango, he had come up with one bright spot in all of this when he said, 'Least he had the decency to get all his killin' and thievin' in before Christmas.' Nobody had found the thought all that comforting, considering that Abner was not the only Fordham they had to worry about. Judge Travis determined that the citizens of Durango held a larger stake in the outcome of the man's upcoming trial than did Four Corners. The team the judge assembled several years before, the lawmen now famously known as The Magnificent Seven, were easily able to capture the bank robber and murderer after he'd made the mistake of trying to get away with two bank robberies within the same week. The biggest mistake, though, was attempting that robbery in their town. All of the towns that were a week's ride out were notified that Fordham and his gang of two sons and one nephew could strike again. Four Corners turned out to be very lucky: only the bank was robbed, or rather, an attempt was made. In Durango, the bank manager and a young mother and child died in a shootout as the gang escaped from that town. Four Corners saved the money and arrested Fordham. His sons and the nephew, however, were able to get away.

And this is how Buck, Ezra and J.D. found themselves stalled in the high desert between Cortez and Four Corners six days before Christmas.

"Buck, could Ah have some water?" Ezra asked.

"Jesus!" J.D. groaned loudly as he lay on Buck's right side.

"Wh … " the professional poker player started to ask. He stopped and rubbed his throat; he felt especially sore there. His voice lacked the velvet tones that normally accompanied the lilting southern accent.

"J.D.," Buck warned.

"What?" his irritated fellow lawman asked.

"He can't help that he don't remember some stuff any more than it's your fault that you don't remember either of us." That Ezra had been held tightly and nearly choked and probably persistently felt that he needed something to soothe his aching throat seemed to be lost on the other hurting member of their party. "And Christmas is less 'n a week away. You might want to watch what you say." Though Buck didn't have much want for religion, he appreciated other people's need to believe in something, and he knew that once J.D. got his memory back, the young Catholic would be upset that he had used Jesus' name in vain.

"I don't know and I don't care who you are. I just want to get movin'," the injured easterner replied harshly. He kept quiet about the other.

"J.D., Buck is … " Ezra began, but he was quickly cut off by the angry young man.

"Shut up!" J.D. looked from Buck to Ezra and then back to Buck. He waved his hand at the two men in frustration and said, "I ain't stayin' here no longer."

"Don't do it, kid," Buck said.

"I told ya to stop callin' me kid!" J.D. roared. He pushed himself up off the ground, far quicker than the last few times, though the end result was exactly the same. He staggered one step, and then another, and then landed hard on his knees, grabbing at his head.

"Buck," Ezra began as he moved the blanket from his legs.

"Do. Not. Get. Up. Ezra," Buck warned through gritted teeth. That was another thing that Ezra kept forgetting: he had only one good leg at the moment. Attempting to walk on a sprained, if not broken, right foot would have done the dizzy and disoriented gamester no good, as had been the case the last time Ezra tried to get up and help Buck with a combative, badly concussed and amnesiac J.D. Dunne.

"But the boy … "

"I know, Ez," Buck said kindly. "But ya got a bad foot, remember?"

Ezra frowned and then looked down at his feet. There was little that was in especially good focus for the southerner, but a man would have to have been blind not to see that the right ankle was twice the size of the left.

"Mah apologies, Buck. Ah do not mean to make things harder for you," Ezra said forlornly as Buck took the couple of steps needed to get to J.D. "Ah know it must be particularly hard for you the longer our young friend's memory fails him."

"It's all right. I know he don't mean any of it," Buck said as he tried to help J.D. back to the bedroll.

"I mean all of it," J.D. spat back, shaking Buck's hands from his shoulders and crawling back to his spot against the tree. "What the hell kind of a name is J.D.? You ain't no friends o' mine; don't have the decency to call me by my given name."

"J.D.," Ezra said, "if you understood the affection we all have for you and the moniker that Buck chose … "

"Speak English!" J.D. yelled. "Better yet, just shut up!"

Buck shook his head. "Look, kid. You ain't gettin' anywhere 'til yer head heals. Why don't you just accept it and try to get some sleep?"

"I don't gotta listen to you. I don't gotta listen to either of you," the hurting man said. He pulled his knees up, rested his wrist on one knee and rubbed his sore head with his other hand.

"Buck," Ezra said softly. "He has a concussion, among other things. His behavior is … unusual, to say the least. He cannot be allowed to sleep for long without checking him regularly. Mistah Jackson would say … "

"Yeah, I know," Buck snapped.

"Ah … Ah am sorry. Ah have said that before, Ah surmise?"

"No, Ez. You're right, we gotta do that. I'm just … frustrated is all. Didn't mean to yell at ya."

"Ah will survive a little bit of bein' yelled at. I have survived Mistah Larabee after all these years." The hurt gamester looked up to the sky and then out to the horizon. He sighed heavily. It had been a strange day, a day with thick cloud cover, windy, the angry clouds moving on hurriedly to open a window to the brilliant early-winter sun. But the clouds held an urgency of movement this day and quickly blocked out the sun once more.

"Somethin' wrong? Want me to get ya somethin', Ezra?" Buck asked, sounding exhausted.

Ezra's brow furrowed. He looked around. It was a dreary though relatively mild late afternoon. They were lucky that the colder high desert nights had been absent for most of this fall and was continuing a similar weather pattern for the beginning of winter. Ezra sighed once more. "No."

"Come on. J.D. don't want any o' my help and I don't think he's gonna feel up to movin' again any time soon."

"Shut up," the youngest member of The Magnificent Seven called out.

"See?" Buck asked with a sad smile.

"Yes, Ah see. Ah fear that you won't be able to assist me."

"Happy to help ya if I can."

"Well, Ah appreciate that. It is rather dark and Ah am still not seein' straight. Could you tell me, what time is it?"

"Aaah!" J.D. yelled from the tree.

* * *

><p>"They should be more'n halfway home, ya reckon?" Vin Tanner asked his companion.<p>

"Reckon, though at this pace we could catch up to 'em."

"You know Ez, he don't like bein' out on the trail much, but when it's just fer a ride home, he likes ta take it slow."

"Shame we had to stay here and meet the judge," Chris Larabee complained. "Ezra's right. It is nice to enjoy a leisurely ride, when ya can."

"Well, least we got lucky with the stage gettin' in early. But Ezra's slow pace is prob'ly drivin' Buck nuts," Vin said with a grin as he squinted into the distance, the crow's feet enhancing the amused looked on the handsome man's face.

"No doubt," Chris agreed. The professional poker player was a walking contradiction in so many ways. Vin and Chris had laughed when Ezra left Cortez the last time they were there, in the spring, when Four Corners' resident gambler departed six hours ahead of them and they still wound up catching up to him.

"He's with Buck and J.D., so he won't be able to give Chaucer the run he likes when he's got time."

"That horse gets more exercise than any horse I've ever known. He's quite an animal," Chris said admiringly.

"Still spoiled," Vin said grumpily.

"If that's the result of spoilin' a horse, it should happen more often." Vin grunted in reply. "You still mad about that?"

"Got a right."

"No ya don't."

"Do."

Chris brought Pony to a stop. Vin looked over and reigned Peso in, too.

"Ya sound like Buck."

"You don't think he cheated?" the tracker asked, challenge in his tone, as he chewed a long blade of grass.

"I know he didn't."

"Ain't no way he coulda done that ride that fast, leastwise not without riskin' hurtin' Chaucer. And he wouldn't do that."

Chris chuckled wryly and shook his head. "You boys still don't know how much time he spends out in the territory.

"That's 'cause we know how much time he spends at that table playin' poker and up in his _feathah-bed_," Vin replied, mimicking Ezra's southern accent on the last word.

"Figure it makes sense that you fellas wouldn't see it as much as me."

"See what? Ain't you the one always complainin' 'bout him bein' late?"

"Vin," Chris said, his tone turning serious, his change in demeanor assuring him that his friend was paying attention. "When was the last time I complained about Ezra bein' late?"

"'spect it's been a while," the former bounty hunter said as he looked across the mesa in the direction of Four Corners.

"It's been over a year."

"Like hell."

"It has. Since last year's harvest. Remember that?"

Vin snorted. "Yeah, I remember. Weren't all his fault."

"It was mostly all his fault." Chris Larabee may not complain about Ezra's persistent tardiness anymore, but that didn't mean there wasn't plenty that Ezra did that drove Chris just a little bit crazy

"I know ya weren't mad at him then 'cause he was late," Vin challenged. "He's been late lots o' times over the last year, since that mess."

"Ain't that the truth."

"And you ain't complained …." Vin stopped and tried to think of the circumstances of the last time Chris had laid into Ezra being late for patrol or for an early morning meeting or for when he would take a turn escorting a prisoner to another town. He knew that his often-annoying fellow lawman was late at least once or twice a month for one of his patrols. _'What the hell'_, he thought.

"Since you don't seem inclined to ask, I'll tell ya anyway. He's out workin' that horse, regular. He does the same for Pony. You probably haven't noticed that Pony's been better behaved because _your_ mule still gives ya so much trouble."

"That all some kind o' secret?" Vin asked. His irritation at being out of the loop on this information was obvious.

"No. J.D knows, Ez works with his horse, too. Mary knows, too."

"Mary?" Vin questioned with disdain and a near-sneer. Chris didn't much care for the attitude the ex-buffalo hunter took when mentioning the newspaper publisher's name.

"What's that mean?" Chris asked. He and Mary Travis had been dating now, finally, for months. He would defend her honor, even against a good friend, every time.

"Ah, nothin'. Just thought Ez and me were closer than that."

"You been calling him a liar and a cheat for goin' on three months now, Vin."

"No I ain't. Only called him that the first week after."

"And never took it back."

"That's 'cause I thought he cheated and then lied about it."

"You need to get your head outta your ass on this, Vin. He didn't cheat, and if that means he's a better horseman than the rest of us, so be it." The Texan shrugged his shoulder and then shook his head, his jaw tight as he began to realize how wrong he had been and how badly he had behaved. "Ain't you the first one who saw how good he was with Chaucer?" Chris asked.

"Yeah."

"Remember when Colonel Davies and his men stopped in town last year, how impressed he was with Ezra's 'carriage'?"

"Yeah."

"And last time Judge Travis was in town … "

"Yeah, yeah. I get it."

Chris looked off in the distance. "Remember he finally admitted to riding during the war. He knows how to break a horse. The tricks he's got Chaucer to do? Imagine what his horse did for him in battle."

"I get it, Chris. I was wrong."

"He ain't mad at ya, you know," the leader of The Seven said.

"Sure he is." Vin knew that he'd done his friend a terrible wrong. Even still, Ezra had continued to speak with him, share his good liquor with him, sparingly, saved his life, even during that time, though it didn't likely matter whether Ezra was mad at you or not when you were in danger. He would still do what needed to be done to save a friend. "So you and Ez, you talked about it?"

"Yeah."

"Hell," Vin said as he started Peso moving again. He now, more than ever, wanted to catch up to the frustrating man from the south, offer his heartfelt apology, hoping that Ezra would accept it.

"Yeah."

"Why didn't ya tell me?"

"You wouldn't have believed me any more than you believed him. Been dead set on your thinkin' on this, Vin, from the beginning," Chris reminded his stubborn friend.

"Reckon yer right." Vin took the lead and called back to Chris with some urgency, "Can ya pick up the pace some?" Vin and Peso picked up the pace some with or without the tall blond's consent.

* * *

><p>"Good day's work, Brother Nathan," Josiah Sanchez said as he slapped his hand on his good friend's back while they walked down the church steps. A cloud of dust surrounded them at the action, though neither man noticed. "Lookin' forward to some grub, a drink, a bath and a good night's sleep, in that order," the big former preacher added.<p>

"Me, too. Good, hard work'll build up an appetite."

"It will indeed," Josiah answered with a toothy smile. They turned back to look at the building where they had worked hard most of the day.

"It'll look right nice for the Christmas service this year," the former slave said.

"It will at that," the preacher agreed. The two men walked companionably into the saloon, expecting to see a few of their fellow peacekeepers. "Guess Buck, J.D. and Ezra ain't back yet."

"At least one of 'em would be in here if they were," Nathan Jackson agreed. The two men had made it clear to the town leaders that they would be available for any needed law enforcement work while the others were away, but that they would be working at the church, as things seemed to be pretty quiet, despite being on alert for any more activity from the Fordhams. It wasn't expected that the family would come back to Four Corners since it was absolutely predictable that the sons and other family of Abner Fordham would want to try to spring the old man from jail in Durango.

"Buenos noches Nathan, Josiah," the pretty Mexican saloon manager Inez Rocios said in greeting.

"Hey, Inez. Ez not back yet?" Nathan asked.

"Not that I am aware of. A beer and a special each?" she asked. The drinking and occasional eating establishment was busy. Robert Merton, the most recent rancher to relocate to the Four Corners area, and the one whose cattle business was thriving over all others, would be starting a drive soon to pull his substantial herd down from the upper ranges to the more temperate climate closer to six thousand feet of elevation, and much closer to town. These men crowding up the saloon would soon be gone. Even Inez, whose business benefitted greatly from all of these extra bodies, would be glad when they were on their way.

"Looks like we might need to get Robert to take the overnight shift. Those fellas are gonna be too tired if they get in much later," Josiah noted.

"Depends on the reason," Nathan said.

"What do you mean?" Josiah asked, though knowing Nathan as well as he did, the self-appointed man of the cloth already knew what the healer was hinting at. He decided to cut Nathan off before he put his foot in his mouth. "You didn't forget that Chris sent that telegram earlier today, said that Ezra, Buck and J.D. would be taking the pass through Overlook Canyon?"

"Oh. Huh."

"Yeah. Huh. I hope you ain't fallin' off from that good progress you and Ezra have been makin' in your friendship."

These seven men had worked together, lived together on the trail, played cards and ate together often, and many times fought together to defend their town, its citizens and each other, and bore the scars to prove it. Through the three years they'd been together, Nathan and Ezra had fought each other as well, mostly verbally, though they had one time actually come to blows, another time Nathan nearly took Ezra's head off … literally, with a sword. But things had changed of late, and Nathan and Ezra finally began to make the same progress in their relationship they had each made with every other one of their fellow lawmen. That progress, those sincere feelings between the two men, the trust and true friendship that developed between them warmed the hearts of so many of the town folk who liked and admired and yes, even loved them both.

"No, you're right. I know I still gotta stop makin' those same assumptions. I know better." Nathan looked into a face very skeptical of that proclamation, based on what he'd heard just moments ago. "I know it, Josiah."

"That's what I want to hear, my friend." They sat down at their usual table, a 'Reserved' sign somehow managing to keep all of the extra people milling about from taking a seat. "I'd almost call this a miracle," the former preacher who was slowly bringing the church back to life noted of the vacant seats.

"Almost," Nathan agreed.

"I'll go talk to Robert after we eat about covering for our boys."

"He might be too busy with this last cattle drive of the year. But we can get Dave Landon and Marty Ellison to help," Nathan suggested.

"We're buildin' a good town here, Nathan. Good people. Who would have thought how far this town would come?" Josiah asked. Though the saloon was full and noisy, there seemed an air of positive energy, anticipation of a good drive in excellent weather keeping everyone's spirits high and behavior steady. Christmas sitting right around the corner didn't hurt. There had been very little crime in the growing desert town. All of the members of the law enforcement brigade here could pat themselves on the back for their part in that success.

* * *

><p>The camp was quiet. Both J.D. and Ezra had succumbed to sleep. Buck hoped that when he woke them to check for any further effects of the hard hits they both took that he would have his 'little brother' back and that Ezra, even though he might not yet be able to <em>see<em> the time on his timepiece - his vision blurred from the earlier hit, and not likely much better in this short period of time – at least he would be able to remember that he need not keep asking as time passed.

The ladies' man was exhausted, but he knew that he needed to remain awake and alert. The men who had taken down his two companions could be back at any moment, and more than anything he needed to make sure he caught Chris and Vin before they got by them. They were lucky to be hidden from view, it would give Buck a leg up if the wrong people came upon them, but there was no way that Chris and Vin would see them from the trail. He did worry, though. His two friends were supposed to take the same route home that they were taking, but they certainly didn't have to. It would be an even longer and more frustrating day if they had to start making their way home with just two horses and two injured … and one fighting him the entire way.

Buck sighed as the sun made its descent into the vast high desert horizon. "Looks like I won't be enjoyin' the charms of the lovely Hazel tonight," the renowned Lothario said to himself.

"One must surmise that the baby was not so unpleasant to look upon that her parents felt compelled to select a name as awful as the looks."

"You're awake!" Buck exclaimed as he quickly moved over to his friend. Ezra winced, his eyes closed, so Buck lowered his voice as he continued, "How're ya feelin'? Ya sound like yer old self."

Ezra opened his eyes, ever so briefly, and then snapped them shut. "Ah assume that the sky is not really spinnin' rapidly above us, nor the sun so bright in the distance that it might result in blindness?"

"No, pard, it's still sun and clouds, the wind's died down … we're not movin', and though the sun is shining bright, it's on its way to settin'." Buck took a good look at his friend. "Sorry ya ain't feelin' better."

"Well, Ah do feel bettah, just not well." The former con man looked toward his friend, his eyes still closed, and asked, "Has Chaucer returned?"

"Yep. Just like you said he would."

"Hm," Ezra replied. He took a deep breath, as though to still a roiling stomach, and asked, "Is he un … uninjured?" he asked, his sore throat catching as he spoke, causing pain. He rubbed his neck carefully.

"Don't rub it too much. You got a bit of a bruise comin' up."

Ezra did as he was told but asked again, "Chaucer?"

"He's fine. A little winded at first, he's good now." Buck watched as Ezra's color continued to worsen. "You feelin' sick, hoss?"

"Ah am goin' to endeavor … " he started, though he purposefully stopped talking and kept his mouth shut a long while before attempting to speak again. "Maybe Ah should just lie here and remain quiet for a while." The dizziness, the upset stomach – he had been sick just before falling asleep - his throat, his side, the foot: Ezra had suffered through a helluva a day.

"Ya thirsty? May want to give it a try," Buck suggested.

"You're kidding!" J.D. yelled. The young man's anger hadn't abated with some sleep. Buck would need to get his friend talking some more to know for sure if he still suffered from the loss of memory.

"Been a couple o' hours, J.D. Gotta give the man a chance at a drink. He's been sick, probably dehydrated." Buck watched as J.D. kept his head down, chin lowered to his chest. "How're you doin'?" the kind gunman asked.

"Leave me alone."

"J.D., I just wanna see … " Buck tried again, but he was rudely cut off once more.

"Leave. Me. Alone."

"Mistah Wilmington … " Ezra started but was immediately stopped by a yell from the angry easterner.

"And that's another thing! If we're friends, why do you call him 'Mr. Wilmington' and me 'Mr. Dunne'?"

"J.D.," Buck tried, but his young friend wasn't finished.

"I must have a real name. Am I right?" J.D. demanded.

"Yes, J.D.," Buck replied, exasperated and exhausted after hours of dealing with this unusual behavior.

"Indeed," Ezra said at the same time.

"Then what is it?"

"John," Buck answered.

"Then call me John from now on."

Ezra and Buck shared a look, a combination of sympathy and exasperation could be seen on each handsome face. Buck shook his head and then pulled out his watch. Nearly six thirty. They still might get home today, but only if Chris and Vin showed up right quick.

"The kid givin' ya a hard time, Buck?"

"Oh thank god!" Buck called as he stood to greet his oldest friend. Ezra liked to say that Vin Tanner had impeccable timing; Buck would now have to agree as Chris and Vin walked into the small glen.

"Good lord," Ezra muttered in time with Buck's exclamation.

"Who the hell are you?" J.D. yelled at Chris. "And don't call me kid!"

Chris ignored J.D., understanding that there was something terribly wrong going on with him. He turned to his oldest friend. "You know, Buck, if you were trying to keep yourselves from bein' found behind all this brush, you mighta been wise to do somethin' about all this yelling."

"That is sage advice, Mistah Larabee," Ezra said as he greeted his two newly-arrived friends with a weak two-fingered salute to the hat that no longer fit over his bandaged head.

"What the hell with the 'Mister' crap?" J.D. complained loudly.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Vin asked as he knelt in front of Ezra and did a cursory review of his injuries. To Buck he asked, "And what is that on yer hat?"

"These two boys both got cold cocked hard with a rifle. J.D. here don't know who he is," Buck explained. "And it's called mistletoe. With your luck with women, Vin, I can understand how you might not know … "

"I know my name ain't J.D.," the young man grumbled. Vin and Chris looked at J.D., confusion and worry clearly written on their faces.

"And how, precisely, have you become so convinced of that?" Ezra asked. The angry young man was really starting to annoy the normally laid back gambler.

"'Cause I …." J.D. stopped. He couldn't keep up with this. It was just easier to stay quiet and hope he could get himself out of this soon. "Never mind."

"Mistah Dunne … "

"Shut up," J.D. whined.

"Mistah Dunne has been in a particularly foul mood following his injury," Ezra said, completing his thought and rubbing his throat again.

"And you've been a damned pain in the ass," J.D countered.

"It ain't new that Ezra's a pain in the ass," Vin said with a wry grin.

"Thank you," Ezra returned. He figured he had a right to be a pain in the ass today, though, it being the Christmas season, he would need to temper those feelings pretty fast.

"But yer actin' way outta character, J.D.," Vin added.

J.D. huffed under his breath, "Quit callin' me that."

"We ain't gonna quit callin' ya that, J.D. It's your name," Chris said, his stern face telling the young man that he would take none of the sass he'd been handing to his other friends. It seemed to shut him up, at least temporarily. To Buck and Ezra, Chris asked, "What the hell happened?"

"Mistah Wilmington will tell the sad tale, as he is the only one of us who knows the entire story. Ah trust that you will make the tellin' quick so that we might get back on the trail and headin' home?"

"Don't know if that's happenin', Ez." Buck looked to Chris and Vin and started the storytelling. "We left Fordham at the Durango jail … "

"We know that part, Buck. From Cortez is far enough back." The tall blond wondered if his old friend hadn't also suffered a head injury.

"Oh, yeah. It's been a helluva day, Chris."

"You sure you ain't still got that girl from last night on the brain?" Vin asked.

"Yes, Mistah Tanner, he has her 'on the brain'." Buck smiled at the expert poker player and then continued the story.

"So Fordham was still in the jail when you left?" Buck asked Chris.

"Yeah. Judge Travis sent a telegram and got a reply from the sheriff there. He was still in jail in Durango when we left Cortez at about one o'clock."

"Well, we got shanghaied on the way home. Those two sons o' Abner shot at us. We missed gettin' hit, jumped off our horses. Had ourselves a good gun fight goin'. Ez shot one o' the brothers in the arm, J.D. got another one, shot his gun right out o' his hand, but they both got on their horses and hightailed it back toward Cortez."

"We didn't see any sign of 'em," Vin said.

"Figured they stayed off the trail, their bloody arms would draw suspicion," Buck said. "Anyway, we were sure it was just the two of 'em, hadn't seen or heard sign o' more, and then some giant brute of a man came out of nowhere, took out J.D. with the stock of his rifle. J.D. dropped … ." Buck stopped as he visualized how hard his friend was hit. "Ez saw movement so he was able to jump away, not take as hard of a hit."

"Not that Ah could tell," Ezra interjected dryly.

"I got my gun out, but the … behemoth," Buck said as he winked at Ezra, who had used the term when describing the ladies' man early in their acquaintance, "took aim at J.D.'s horse. Said he'd shoot Milagro dead if I didn't let him go. I wasn't gonna be able to go after 'im … I thought Ez and J.D. might be dead they got hit so hard, but dead or alive, I wasn't leavin' 'em. I let that ugly son-of-a-bitch go. Looked like an inbred version of Abner, not like that entire family ain't got somethin' goin' wrong with it. Anyway, he fired right behind Milagro, scared the poor thing. All of our horses ran, but Clyde and Chaucer both came back."

"Milagro?" J.D. uttered softly. Buck looked sadly toward his friend. Maybe it would be better to just let the kid remember on his own. The yearning, worried tone as he spoke his horse's name made the lean gunman wonder if his 'little brother' was starting to remember things.

"That everything?" Chris asked.

"Think so. Ezra, did I get it right?"

"Of what Ah can remembah, yes. One thing, though. We did not get 'shanghaied' in the true sense of the word. We were not kidnapped, albeit one does not know what the miscreants' intentions were. We also … " Ezra took a deep breath and appeared to grow paler the longer he spoke. "We were not … compelled to go somewhere … such as on a ship, as the … original intention … of the word … implies … nor … did …." The energy was draining quickly from their friend.

"Ezra?"

"Yes, Mistah Larabee?"

"Shut up."

Ezra looked not at all offended by the directive. "Wise counsel. Ah b'lieve Ah shall. Talkin' has exacerbated mah headache."

Vin finished checking Ezra's foot, after having checked his bruised side and throat. He decided to leave the head injury until they had decided whether or not they would be returning to Four Corners this night or tomorrow. "Any other injuries I need to know about?"

"No," Ezra said. It was clear to them all that Ezra was not feeling well.

"J.D.?" Vin asked.

"No. I … I … never mind."

Softly, so that only Vin could hear, Ezra said, "Our young compatriot … has quieted down … significantly."

"Aren't you supposed ta stay quiet?"

"Let me finish. Ah fear he … recalls us and who he is … possibly how he … has been acting. We must … keep an eye … on him, let him know … that it is not … his fault … how he was reacting." Ezra rubbed his head, though he was only able to massage just short of the injury area.

Vin patted Ezra's shoulder. "Lean on back and rest, Ezra. I'll go talk to Chris, see what he wants to do."

"If Ah get a vote, Ah … would vote for … headin' home. Aside from the … lure of mah feather bed … and some of our fine healer's … disgustin' pain … relievin' tea, we have the … dreadful and high … probability of the … Fordham family … returnin' to … wreak havoc … on our … quaint town." Vin rubbed Ezra's shoulder again as he rose to speak with Chris. Just that quickly the card sharp fell asleep. The tracker looked over to where J.D. sat. He was glad to see Buck sitting next to the young easterner, in deep conversation. It appeared that Ezra was right, based on the look on J.D.'s face.

Vin walked over to Chris. "Ezra wants to head home. Says there a 'high probability' of the Fordhams headin' to Four Corners. I think he's right."

"When Ez starts talkin' probability, we all best listen," the tall gunman said as he glanced first to a clearly hurting Ezra Standish, and then over to a deep in conversation Buck and J.D. Both injured men could use more time to recover before getting back on the trail, but Ezra and Vin were right. Between Josiah and Nathan and a few other men in town who had volunteered their time to keep their town safe when needed, Four Corners should be all right, but more protection wouldn't hurt. With two of the Fordhams shot, they would likely, or at least hopefully lay low, maybe even try to bust the senior member of their gang out at the Durango jail. They would have to send a telegram to the sheriff in Durango, and the Judge, who had moved on to the next town on his route, Juniper.

"All right," Chris said. "Buck and J.D.," he called as he headed to Ezra laying on his bedroll. The two dark-haired men joined Chris, Vin and Ezra.

"How ya feelin', J.D.?" Chris asked. J.D. blushed and quickly lowered his head. "J.D, ain't your fault."

"I … I guess not. I feel awful." The young man raised his head and looked at Ezra. "I'm so sorry, Ezra. I … I remember some of it. I said awful things."

Ezra stared at J.D. Something seemed … off, with all of this. The highly observant con man couldn't figure it out right now, though. "You were not in your right mind, Mistah Dunne. As Mistah Larabee said, you are not to blame for the words you chose. In any event, Ah b'lieve Buck and Ah can withstand an occasional verbal lashing, am Ah right, Mistah Wilmington?"

"You are indeed, Mr. Standish."

J.D. cocked his head but said nothing.

"We're heading home, but we're rearranging who's riding which horse with Milagro missing and needing to double up on one horse. I'll ride the mule," Chris said.

"His name's Peso," Vin said, irritated with the nickname Chris had adopted for his horse.

"Still … I'll ride him. J.D., you all right to ride by yourself?"

"I got an awful headache, but I can ride."

"Good. Buck, you're on Chaucer."

"Mistah Larabee … "

"Ez, you're still dizzy, feelin' sick, probably got a broke foot. You'll double up with Vin on Clyde. We'll switch off if he seems to need a break."

"He's a good boy. He'll get the fellas home just fine," Buck said, proud of the devoted and reliable big animal. He might never admit it out loud, but he held more love and pride in his horse than most any woman he'd held in his arms, save for one flame-haired beauty who turned out to be more of a drifter than he was. He was last up on his equine transportation as they headed out of their camp and on to home.

* * *

><p>Save for several stops in order for Ezra to be sick, and one extra time for J.D., who insisted on heading behind a tree, a worry to Buck despite Chris' insistence that they leave the young man be, and a few minutes to check on Milagro when they found him on the trail, they made it back to Four Corners without incident. They found the town in one piece, for which they were all grateful, but they knew full well that it meant they were simply back in time for the visit that was sure to come.<p>

"Josiah, help Nate get those two up to the clinic," Chris instructed.

"Don't need to go there," J.D. insisted. "I just have a headache."

"Ah, as well, see no necessity … "

"Forget it, Ezra," Nathan said. "From what Buck says, you both got hit hard enough that you'll need to spend the night." Buck received dueling glares from his two injured friends.

"I'm gonna go wake up Jake to send those telegrams," Chris said as he handed Peso back to his owner. "Your mu … uh, Peso did good."

"I know." Vin was not happy with his friend at this particular moment. But he knew they all had their jobs to do. "I'll take Pony and Milagro to the livery, make sure they're taken care of. Buck, can you get Chaucer?"

"Sure can. You've got a fine mount there, Ezra," Buck called as the man was helped up the staircase to the clinic.

"Ah know, Ah am very fortunate. Thank you for acknowledgin' that. Yosemite, Tiny and the boys know what Chaucer likes."

"All right. You two boys behave yourselves with Nathan tonight." That comment earned Buck two more scowls from the injured duo.

"Pushin' it, aren't ya, Buck?"

"He can take it," Buck defended in reply to his oldest friend's query.

"Fine. See you in the saloon in a bit." Ezra sighed, wishing he could join his friends in the drinking establishment – his second home … actually his _actual_ home - even though he knew that the whiskey he so desired was unlikely to stay put; his bell had been truly and impressively rung today.

The five men arrived well after sunset; much of the last part of their ride had them surrounded in pitch black. They were lucky that the approach was well-used and well-known to them all. The town was quiet and dark, save for the street fires and occasional oil lamps that could be seen through the windows of businesses and the curtains of the few homes in town. And the men were still in town who were hired on for Robert Merton's cattle drive; it was not hard to know that if one was nearby the saloons. The weather had held nicely, the temperatures having dipped only down into the forties for the entire ride. The nights ahead would be the swan song for mild evenings save for an occasional day or two throughout the coming winter. Daytime would still provide those hints of warmth regularly, but seeing a nighttime reading over the mid-thirties would require the spring to bloom at its fullest in four months' time.

Within the half hour, Chris, Vin, Buck and Josiah were seated at their table at the saloon. Inez brought glasses and a decent bottle of whiskey.

"For making certain everyone returned safely," she said. She leaned in and whispered into Buck's ear. "Muchas gracias." And then she placed the mistletoe that dangled from Buck's hat between them and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. He smiled broadly at his companions. His friends smiled back but with far different thoughts about the meaning of the interaction than what the ladies' man was thinking.

"So what do we do about this Fordham situation?" Josiah asked.

"We'll see what kind of answers we get from Judge Travis and the sheriff in Durango, but we should be ready just in case. We'll give Dave and Marty a heads up, and see how many others we can have standin' by if they're needed."

"It's a shame," Buck said. "It's been so peaceful, 'cept that robbery."

"And those men who perpetrated the robbery hurtin' our boys," the big former preacher reminded them all.

"Seems like they'll both be all right, don't it?" Buck asked.

"They're both complainin'. That's always a good sign," Josiah agreed.

"Looks like J.D. got a little luckier than Ez. That amnesia can be a tricky thing," Chris said.

"Yeah. The kid feels terrible. He sure didn't act nothin' like J.D. for a while there." Buck took the filled shot glass before him and downed it in one gulp.

Chris had glanced toward Vin now and again throughout the conversation. The former bounty hunter seemed in deep thought and hadn't offered an opinion on anything they'd discussed since arriving at the drinking establishment. He currently kept his eyes steadily on Chris.

"What?" the former gunslinger asked as he filled Buck's glass.

"I was just wonderin'. Ol' Abner was makin' his rounds as a gang o' four."

"Yeah, so?" Buck asked.

"When you had the two o' them Fordhams fightin' ya, didn't none o' the three of you wonder where the third one was?"

"I can't talk for J.D. and Ezra, but I know I was only worried about dealin' with the bullets comin' at me."

"I get that, jest seems hard to believe that the three of you weren't reminded that you were missin' a Fordham," Vin explained.

Buck, far more defensive now, replied, "Tell ya what, Vin. When Ez is feelin' better, I'll ask him to figure out the odds." The tall gunman stood, downed his second shot as readily as he'd handled the first, and stormed out the batwing doors.

"Vin, I trust that you will enlighten us further on what you think is goin' on?" Josiah queried.

"Do either of you think it's likely that soon as Ezra knew they were fightin' Fordhams that he weren't lookin' around for the third one?"

"No," Chris answered readily.

"I have no doubt that he was, but I don't see how it matters now," Josiah replied.

"Vin, what exactly are ya sayin'?" Chris asked directly.

"Buck got riled up awful quick, dontcha think?" Vin asked.

"Just say what yer thinkin', Vin. Think you might be spendin' too much time with Ezra, dancin' around the subject," Chris said, annoyance with his friend crystal clear.

"I think, and I think Buck might think so, too, that the kid saw what was happenin' and froze, or jumped the gun, or dropped his gun, and let Fordham catch 'im out."

Josiah listened and understanding dawned, both Chris and Vin could see the recognition, though Chris was still not yet clued in to what Vin really meant, but he would be in the dark for only a moment longer.

"You think J.D. was fakin' his memory loss," Josiah concluded. A faint shrug of the shoulder was Vin's answer.

Chris stared at his friend. Vin was nearly as good at reading people as Ezra was. If the tracker was thinking it, it was something they needed to consider. "Shit," he said.

"Chris, you and me, Ez and Nate and Buck, too, we've probably all seen what happens when someone gets hurt that way. I know I saw it more'n once durin' the war. You ever seen someone recover his memory that fast? I mean, J.D. really acted like he had lost his memory, and pretty bad, too. Buck said he got hit harder than Ez. But maybe Buck was too far away to see anything more than his 'little brother' gettin' attacked. If Buck let on the way he usually does when J.D. gets hurt, maybe J.D. figured he could hide his mistake, kinda in plain sight."

"He did 'recover' too fast," Chris agreed, placing a special emphasis on the part that no longer rang true. Chris stood and turned for the exit, but Josiah grabbed his forearm and prevented him from moving away from the table.

"Where ya headed, Brother?"

"I'm gonna go talk to J.D.," he glared, looking at the hand holding him in place and then into Josiah's steely-blue eyes.

"No, I don't think you are. I think we should talk to Buck and Ezra and get more of their perspectives first. We should probably have Nathan re-examine both J.D. and Ezra once we update him on our current thinking of what happened."

"He's right, pard," Vin said.

"All right. I'll wait. Ain't Inez supposed to bring supper over for Ezra and J.D. and relieve Nathan so he can take a break, get something to eat?"

"Yep," Vin answered. Inez hadn't left, so Chris knew he had time.

"I'm gonna go talk to Dave and Marty, make sure they're ready, then go check if we got any replies from the judge or the sheriff. I'll be back soon, but don't let Nathan leave 'til I get back."

"See ya later," Vin said.

"Be careful out there," Josiah called.

"We should eat while we can," Vin suggested.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Josiah agreed.

* * *

><p>"I was thinkin' J.D.'s injury shouldn't have been bad enough to cause amnesia," Nathan told his fellow lawmen.<p>

Buck jumped up from his seat, pushing the pew out of position. The five lawmen moved their late night meeting over to the church. It had been a long day, but things needed to be talked through. "You can't," he started as he swiped his hand through his thick, dark hair. He walked over to the door, and then back, and then said, "J.D., he wouldn't do that."

"Pretty sure he did, Buck," Chris countered calmly. "It makes more sense." They'd been unable to talk to Ezra to get his unique perspective on what had happened. Chris tried, several times, but the card sharp had slept, a lot, and Nathan refused to allow him to be woken to answer questions.

Buck looked at Nathan and he could see the truth. The man who knew only a life of enslavement for much of his young life was one of the most honorable men Buck knew, and he also trusted the healer's medical knowledge. The fact than Nathan had released J.D. from the clinic already convinced the mustachioed lawman, despite what his heart kept telling him.

"Hell," he said as he sat back down.

"Don't mean nothin', not really," Vin said.

"I don't know if I agree with that," Josiah said. "It's one thing to make a mistake. We all make mistakes. But goin' to such lengths to cover it up? Sounds like we got a trust problem."

"It's pretty extreme," Nathan agreed. "Mighta been a little in shock, could explain why he let it go so long."

"Do you think he got hit hard enough to be knocked unconscious?" Chris asked

Nathan looked from Chris to Buck. He hated to say it, but he shook his head and answered honestly. "No, I don't."

"Seems like we all got a reason to not trust now," Josiah concluded.

"I'm gonna need to talk to him about this," Chris announced. "Buck, Nate, need you with me."

"I sent him to his room at the boarding house," Nathan said. Just as Chris began to reply they heard a banging in the small room next door where Josiah kept his personal belongings and his bed. He had a room at the boarding house, too, but more often than not he could be found sleeping in his own personal sanctuary inside God's sanctuary. It was a room whose second door into the church was mostly kept locked, except on days when work was being done on it. Today had been one of those days.

Chris waved to Nathan to keep him talking as their leader moved to step beside the door that led from the sanctuary to the small room.

"Might want to check him again before you talk to him," Nathan continued. "Wanted him to eat and get some rest. Don't know if he's had time for either."

Chris opened the door. He saw the brown suit and the dark hair. "You wanna join us, J.D.?"

The young lawman looked mortified, embarrassed to be found lurking and eavesdropping.

"Might as well come in and get this talked through, kid," Buck said to the man who'd become as close as a blood brother to him. J.D. remained standing where they'd found him, his head now tilted down, staring at the floor.

"Come on, J.D.," Chris ordered. The upset man from the east coast who had made himself as convincingly a member of the famous Magnificent Seven as any of them, coming west after the loss of his mother and finding more than he ever thought he would, stepped into the church proper and sat on one of the pews. He knew it was very likely that these were the last moments of his membership in this group of men that he admired, that he fought hard to be a part of some three years before as they all joined together to help the tribe at the Seminole village. Josiah grabbed a chair and sat opposite him.

Chris asked, "You been there the whole time we were in here?" J.D. nodded but did not speak.

"Why don't you tell us what happened, son?" the former preacher encouraged.

"I messed up and Ezra got hurt 'cause I can't do nothin' right!" J.D. yelled in reply.

"J.D., things were happenin' fast out there," Buck suggested. "Shit happens." The former sheriff and Texas Ranger looked to his friends for agreement but found, based on all of the faces looking back at him, that nobody agreed with him. They looked like good men who were in no way prepared to be as forgiving as Buck. Even Buck knew that it was probably too soon to forgive such a mistake, especially since they still lacked sufficient detail to determine if such forgiveness was warranted.

"Shit didn't happen, Buck. I saw 'im and I fumbled my gun and he hit me. And instead of gettin' up and tryin' to help Ez, I just laid there, pretendin' I was unconscious. Not a very Christian thing to do this time of year."

"That's sometimes somethin' needs doin'," Vin said, "ta stay alive."

"No," J.D. moaned. "I didn't even give Ez a heads up. I coulda done that. I shoulda."

"All right. Let's mark that up to, and you ain't gonna like it, J.D., but youth and inexperience," Chris said.

"I ain't young and I been doin' this for three years. It wasn't inexperience. It was just … lazy … stupid," J.D. protested.

"Why the elaborate story? The memory loss?" Josiah questioned.

"'Cause I didn't want … you already think I can't handle myself. And I done some dumb stuff in the past."

"You shyin' off of the harder stuff? The more dangerous stuff?" Vin asked.

"No!" J.D. answered, far too quickly. "But Chris, you don't give me the complicated stuff."

"Kid, are ya sher about stayin' away from the dangerous stuff. Ain't you plannin' ta ask Casey ta marry ya?" the tracker furthered his interrogation.

"Yeah. So?"

"Don't think any of us wouldn't think the same way once we had family to worry about," Nathan said.

"Once there's a wife, kids," Buck started.

Chris finished. "I changed my whole life for Sarah." The former gunslinger did not need to add, 'And Adam.'

J.D. lowered his head. "Wish it was that." He shook his head, and then added, "Feel bad, not doin' my part." He looked up. "Shouldn't've left Ezra to deal with Fordham alone. What kind of a man does that make me?"

His fellow lawmen looked at J.D. He seemed so lost, definitely regretful. Josiah spoke up first.

"Chris, it don't say nothin' in our written agreement with the judge that we all had to keep doin' the same thing we always have, does it?"

"What written agreement?" Chris asked.

"Exactly," the big man answered. Josiah wanted to say more, they all knew that he did. He wanted to know how one of Ezra's friends could let him down like that, but he knew that he had no right to ask such a question when he had let the former con man down more than once in the past.

Chris stood and reached his arm to J.D.'s shoulder. The young man kept his head down, embarrassed for his actions. "J.D.," Chris said. The youngest of The Seven, the man in so much anguish, raised his head. There were tears in his eyes. He blinked and a trail of tears fell uncontrolled down his cheeks. "We'll figure it out." J.D. broke into sobs, mournful, a desperate sound that hurt each man present to hear. Buck stepped over and joined J.D. on the pew. He placed his arm across the shoulders of his 'little brother', and J.D. immediately dropped his face into Buck's chest. Tears would be shed by more than one man in Four Corners before this day was through. Buck nodded his head toward the door.

Vin stood. He looked to J.D. and said, "Don't worry none, kid. We got yer back." Nathan said, "Take it easy, J.D. It'll all work out." To Buck the healer said, "Make sure he eats. He needs to sleep." Chris added, "Get some rest. We'll talk tomorrow." Nathan, Vin and Chris all headed to the main door of the church. Josiah said to Buck, "I'll be in the back room," and then left the two dark-haired lawmen alone.

* * *

><p>"Abner Fordham is still in the Durango jail," Chris said. He gathered everyone at Nathan's clinic, early the next day, including the extra men who would be helping them. The early morning call did not sit well with Ezra.<p>

"Good lord, what time is it?" the gambler asked as Nathan helped him into a sitting position. Ezra grabbed for his friend's conveniently placed arm as he felt himself tipping, certain that he was soon to tumble from the bed. Nathan steadied his friend, making sure he got the southerner to open his eyes before leaving him be. "Ah … Ah am fine, now, Mistah Jackson. Thank you."

"You're sure?" the worried black man asked.

"Indeed." The former stretcher bearer during the war – and the town's healer – wasn't convinced that Ezra was all that fine, but he left him be, for now.

Though Buck had shown up earlier to inform Chris that J.D. would not be in attendance, Chris sent his longtime friend back to the boarding house to fetch him. They had not talked through the ramifications of J.D.'s actions, and no decisions were made on the young man's position within their group. That meant that, unless J.D. Dunne quit, he was still expected to defend against the Fordhams, should they show up, and there was no doubt that they would show up.

"Mornin', Ez," Vin said as he entered the clinic.

"It is indeed, morning. Would you be willin' to elucidate on the specific time of morning?" Ezra asked. "Apparently Mistah Jackson and everyone else who is crowdin' the room all feel some need to keep that information secret."

"Ain't keepin' it a secret, you fool. You almost fell out o' your bed. I was more worried about you not hittin' your head on this hard floor than givin' ya a time check," Nathan answered with worried annoyance.

"That what he wants ta know? Don't know why you can't just ask 'What time is it?'" Vin relied.

Ezra was crotchety with his injuries. With gritted teeth, he asked, "What. Time. Is. It?"

"Little after six," the former bounty hunter said with a satisfied grin.

"Six! Why on earth … "

"Quiet, Ezra. We'll have our meeting, everyone will know their job for the day, and then we'll be gone to let you get back to your beauty sleep," Chris said.

"Much as you might find yourself amusin', Mistah Larabee, Ah feel obligated to educate you in at least two errors you have just expressed," Ezra started as he placed his hand up to his aching head. "One, Ah require precisely zero 'beauty sleep'. Ah require rest for any number of reasons, but beauty is not one of them." Vin snorted at the exchange, Josiah grinned affectionately. Nathan and Buck both rolled their eyes. Dave and Marty laughed out loud. J.D., who had quietly made his way in to the room and stood as a stone pillar up against the wall, remained still and silent with no reaction whatsoever to Ezra's acerbic reply. "And two, Ah will not be returning to the arms of Morpheus. Ah will take mah position wherever you determine Ah would be most beneficial to the cause of ending this reign of terror of the villainous Fordham family."

"You ain't goin' nowhere," Nathan said.

"We shall see," Ezra replied. "But since Mistah Dunne and Ah have, as they say, skin in the game, both literally and figuratively, Ah believe Ah shall be doin' mah part, along with our young friend." Ezra noted that J.D. had remained mute since arriving, not even bothering to ask after the poker player's welfare. "Am Ah right, Mistah Dunne?" he asked as he leaned his head forward, trying to get a look at his young friend. J.D.'s eyes grew huge at being spoken to by the man whose back he had failed to protect. He looked to Chris, and then to Buck, and purposefully looked at no one else before he hastily opened the clinic door and departed, leaving the door wide open. His boots could be heard echoing down the stairs, two steps at a time - the vibration of the retreat could be felt in the room - followed by the crunch of the dirt alleyway, the sound noticeable as J.D. went from a walk to a jog to ultimately a run down the main thoroughfare of Four Corners.

"That validates mah curiosity," Ezra said as he leaned his aching head back into the pillow. Nathan's examination of the ailing man had not yet taken place, given the early hour. The card sharp wasn't straining as much when he spoke, but he clearly still suffered from the whack to the head, and he seemed to be purposefully not moving, which indicated to Nathan that the man's side was bothering him. And the foot, though a very bad sprain was, frankly, the least of the caring man's concerns with his patient.

"Curiosity?" Chris asked. "'Bout what?"

"Am ah wrong to suggest that Monsieurs Landon and Ellison will be positioned at the church?" It was a good post for less experienced people, though neither of the two men were truly inexperienced. They had shown many times over that they were able to handle a gun and did not fear dangerous situations.

"Yeah."

"Gentlemen, would you mind taking your positions while Ah speak with Mistah Larabee for a moment?"

"Sure Ezra," Marty said. "Hope you're feelin' better," he added as the two men left the room.

"All right. What?"

"Ah must infer from Mistah Dunne's reaction today that he is uncomfortable in mah presence. Ah had suspected that something was awry after his miraculous recovery of his memory."

"Why didn't you mention that yesterday?" Buck asked, both angry and annoyed.

"Ah … " Ezra began, but Nathan cut him off.

"You don't have to answer that, Ez. Buck, I know you got a special feelin' about J.D., and that's good. But in case you really weren't paying attention to nothin' else, I can remind you that Ezra slept most of the time after we got back, 'cept for when I woke him to check that he still knew who he was, where he was."

"Most annoyin'," Ezra interjected.

"And when he was awake," Nathan continued, shooting a dirty look at his patient," he sure wasn't thinking about much to do with J.D."

Buck remembered back to the two times he had ventured up to the clinic. Ezra had been soundly out both times. Buck recalled how at both of those visits that Nathan hoped he would sleep as much as he could, that it was the best thing for a heavy hit like Ezra received.

"Hell, Ez. I'm sorry," Buck offered, the apology clearly heartfelt.

"Yes, well," Ezra started, but his face paled precipitously. Nathan took the two long strides needed to get to the bed.

"Ezra? You all right?"

"Ah … Ah just … Ah thought …." Ezra closed his eyes and rubbed his head once more. Nathan pulled the hand down. "Ah guess that Ah … will be stayin' put as … Ah do not b'lieve that … there are three of … each of you present."

"No. The townsfolk like us, but I don't think they like us so much to want three of each of us," Josiah said with a worried grin.

"'Specially not three o' Chris," Vin joked with a sly smile.

"Hey, I'm gonna head out, hunt down the kid," Buck said.

"Need ya both ready," Chris said. "J.D. at the jail, you up on the grange. Vin'll be up on Gloria's roof. Josiah in the belfry at the church. Nathan'll be downstairs at the livery. I'll be back and forth between the jail and the saloon."

"All right," Buck said as he left.

"Vin and Josiah, head on out," Chris ordered. "Nate, do we need to get someone up here to stay with him?"

"Ah am right heah. You can ask me," Ezra whined.

"It ain't your opinion I'm interested in, Ez. Nate?"

"I think he's feeling poorly enough that he'll stay in bed," the former slave replied. He looked to his patient for confirmation.

"As Ah said, Ah am seein' … more than one of each of you. It is … disconcertin'. Ah feel Ah would be more of a hindrance than a help and Ah would not wish to risk lives, especially those of mah good friends, due to an inability to see straight."

"All right," Chris said with an understanding nod to the southerner. He waited for a similar acknowledgement, wanting to be sure his own concern for Ezra was clear. He accepted the return nod from his injured fellow.

"That bein' said, Mistah Larabee, Ah do not have any intention of remainin' here unarmed," Ezra noted, a distinct warning in his tone.

"Wouldn't think of it. Nate, leave him his arsenal."

"But Chris … "

"I know, he's seeing triple, but he's also right. The Fordhams will be gunnin' for mostly him, Buck and J.D. Ezra, if you're still seein' doub … multiple and someone comes to the door, you need to be real sure you're not shootin' at a friend."

"Believe me, Chris, I am fully aware of what is at risk. But Ah assure you, Ah can recognize each of you, Ah am just seein' far too many of you."

Chris grabbed for the doorknob. "We'll see you later."

"You had bettah," Ezra said in friendship and concern. He was left alone in the room. He looked up and said, "You and Ah are not really on speakin' terms, but Ah would still ask that you look out for these fine men for this next while. I nevah ask for anythin' from you, and Ah know Ah have sinned, but that is no reason to deny this request. Please keep them safe." Ezra closed his eyes, sighed deeply, and waited.

* * *

><p>"J.D."<p>

"Leave me alone."

"'Fraid I can't do that, kid."

"Ezra knows." J.D. looked at Buck's hat. "What happened to your mistletoe?"

"Hell if I know. And yeah, Ezra knows. We shoulda known he'd figure it out. Not much gets by that man."

"Damn," J.D. said as he stood with his chin to his chest.

"Look, Ezra understands … "

"No. No, Buck. How could he?" J.D. asked pleadingly. "How could he ever want to work b … beside me again? I wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to see me … talk to me, ever again."

"He don't feel like that. He's hurt that it happened, but he's, well, he's Ezra. He's a good guy, a forgivin' sort. You know that. You remember how he was after you all sided with his momma when she won the Virginia."

"Had to bring that up? I know he's a good person but I also know how I would feel if someone did that to me."

"Now, you'll have to take my word for it. We need to get ready to greet the Fordhams. Come on, let's get you over to the jail."

J.D.'s head remained down; he watched his feet as they walked. "Chris," he said, "he trusts me after what I did?"

"Chris ain't gonna stop trustin' ya after one incident. But it sure wouldn't hurt for ya to prove to him that you're still one of us," Buck advised his best friend. "Let's get goin'." The ladies' man slapped J.D.'s back and encouraged him down the boardwalk to the jail.

Neither man made it to that destination.

"Buck," J.D. said, stopping suddenly. "Do you hear that?"

"Yeah, I do." They both heard the sounds of galloping horses, charging horses actually. That sound, whether it was three or five or ten, it was impossible to say, was immediately followed by the church bell, Josiah sounding the alarm for them all.

"We ain't gonna have time to get … " J.D. started, but a bullet streaking between the two men and embedding in the wall behind them forced Buck and J.D. to cover. They threw themselves to the ground, behind the fruit and vegetable stand of farmer John Archer. Archer joined them under the protection of his solidly built wagon, the wagon that was gaily decorated with loads of pine boughs and homemade bows of red fabric for the holiday.

"Just stay down, John." Buck said.

"That was my plan. What's goin' on? Who are they?" he asked.

"Fordhams."

"Shit," the farmer replied. It was very late in the growing season yet his wagon was full. The man who, along with Gloria Potter and one or two other smaller farm owners kept the town in fresh fruit, vegetables and herbs in between monthly deliveries from Denver and Santa Fe that arrived during the heart of the growing season, had a cart full of root vegetables – carrots, turnips, assorted squash, beets, some broccoli, cabbage and spinach, along with bounties of rosemary, thyme, mint and apples, lots of apples. Archer had taken the idea of a cloche far beyond its typical size and built a number of protected structures on his property to be able to supply winter vegetable and herbs well into the holiday season. He would be finished with his growing season in just another week or two, but he kept a sizable store of vegetables in the cool, deep caves on his property. His cart was getting the worst of it with the bullets as the Fordhams aimed to kill men not produce, though an occasional apple and gourd exploded over their heads, bits of pulp and flesh landing on the ground and a shoulder here and there.

"Ain't that the truth," J.D. called from the ground at the far end of the wagon. He took aim and easily felled one of the men shooting at them.

"Nice shot, kid!" Buck called. They heard the distinctive echo of Vin's mare's leg and watched as the second man who had been aiming for them was shot from his horse. He lay unmoving in the middle of the avenue.

"All right, John. When me and J.D. start shootin'," Buck said as he and his partner re-loaded their weapons, "I want you to run into the undertaker's."

"Do I have to?" the farmer asked, only a little jokingly. He was clearly loathe to be stuck in a building that housed dead bodies.

"There ain't no bodies in there … yet," the handsome gunman said. "You'll be safer there."

"Let's do it, then." Archer had his own gun out but protecting himself in that way had never been necessary in all his years in the territory. His homestead and grove of fruit trees and extended fields were well-hidden behind a deep stand of trees that was bordered on the other side by a high ridge. Many thought that he and his family had been nothing other than lucky to have survived untouched so far outside of town, so near to abundant water. John Archer had admitted many times that he would take that kind of luck any day.

Buck and J.D. could see that after shooting two of the Fordhams, there appeared to be four more of them still at it, but none of them were sending bullets their way … at the moment. They were easily able to get the farmer into the undertaker's building and get themselves to the protection of the water trough a few buildings down from the jailhouse. They still heard gunfire but they could not see any of the remaining outlaws.

"Buck!"

"Chris?"

"Got Abner and Henry! You got two?" Chris yelled back.

"We got one, Vin got one! That leaves two! I think!"

"One," Vin said as he joined their leader across the street. "Got one tied up. Dave's watchin' 'im behind Gloria's."

"So there's just one left. Where … " Chris said but he stopped as he heard Josiah's rifle. They looked up to the steeple and saw the preacher wave them toward the livery.

"Hell. Nathan and Ezra," Buck said.

They methodically and quietly made their way to the clinic. The winds and the clouds from the previous day were non-existent. The sun shone brightly as it rose over the town, the cold morning soon to make way for what promised to be a mild winter's day. Josiah reached the livery first and found Nathan sprawled on the ground just beyond it, at the turn to head to the back of the building and the clinic. He took a shaking breath as he saw his friend moving to rise. He next took a deep breath in order to recover from his run from the church, and then looked up to the heavens, with thanks, that his friend was not a casualty of this killer family.

"Hold on, Nate. Let's check you out," Josiah said.

"No. Ezra," he said with intense worry. "I heard footsteps headin' up. When I turned I got hit on the back of my head." He had just barely begun the explanation when the others arrived. They checked that Josiah had Nathan well in hand, listened to what had transpired from both men, and continued on to the clinic.

"Stay put … "

"No, I'm all right. Let's go," Nathan said. He and Josiah followed just steps behind their friends.

"Sounds like there's two more, not one," Buck said. They made it to the back of the livery and stopped dead in their tracks: two Fordham men held Ezra between them. He was fully dressed, though without his Remington and his conversion. There was blood pouring from a deep cut on his cheek.

"Gen'l'men," Ezra said, a slight slur to the word, "so happy you could join us."

"Shut up!" the larger of the two men said as he shoved his beefy arm hard into Ezra's injured side. The former con man bent down, attempting to place a hand on the hurt area and tried to move away from the rough hands of his captor. His arms were held tight and he was unable to manage anything he had hoped for. He was pulled back in close to the large Fordham and this time suffered a punch in the same area. He groaned but decided to stop fighting. His friends were there now, it wouldn't be too much longer, one way or the other.

"Where's my Pa?" the other one asked.

"And which of ya killed my brother and my cousin? I seen 'em go down. I know they're dead."

"You'll be joining them if you don't drop your guns," Chris warned.

"Not before we shoot this one," the first Fordham said as he poked his gun roughly into Ezra's abused ribs.

"Ah believe your chances of achievin' that outcome just dropped precipitously low," the card sharp said.

"What?" These two Fordhams were not familiar to Chris, and he didn't think any of his men recognized them either. Why the hell did these outlaw families have to be so large? Ezra recognized that these two men were both quite young – large yet young - and that playing this rough game was very new to them. Their youth, their naiveté, was going to get at least one of them killed. The longer Ezra stood there the longer he was distracted by the fact that J.D. Dunne had been that young and naïve once and could easily have lost his life though youth and immaturity, even with six men watching his back.

"God doesn't want this," Josiah said as he stood with his gun aimed at the nearest outlaw to him.

"Yeah he does. Uncle Abner says so."

"I'm the healer in this town," Nathan tried, "but I can only help you if you don't get killed."

The Fordham farthest from the alley-side railing took a look over the rail to see where this new voice was coming from. He leaned up and away from Ezra in order to get a better look, finally catching a view of the former slave. "Don't need no nigra … " he started. The comment was ended by the crack of a rifle, followed immediately by the splash of blood on Ezra's right ear and his hair and cheek on that side, the opposite side from where he now sported what looked painfully like the butt of a gun overtop of the deep, bleeding cut.

"Hey! What … " the other Fordham exclaimed. Ezra dropped to the step and released the tiny Derringer from its mechanism and into his hand.

"Drop your weapon," the downed lawman demanded.

"You son of a bitch!" the man growled as he pointed his gun toward Ezra's head. This last Fordham standing was hit by a bullet from Ezra's pea shooter as well as from Chris and Josiah, and the no-doubt-killing shot from Vin. The former bounty hunter's aim had been true, and the other bullets that hit the man initially had him falling backwards, Vin's shot nearly scalping him, causing more blood to spray a large segment of the staircase to Nathan Jackson's clinic, and more blood to shower Ezra Standish.

Chris headed up the stairs first, but could not reach his friend due to the dead bodies of outlaw Fordhams. Josiah and Buck were right behind him, though, and worked to remove one body down to the ground; Chris pushed the other one with his foot so that he could reach the ailing member of his law enforcement team.

"Let's get ya up," the leader of The Magnificent Seven said to the obviously shaken man. He reached toward Ezra's uninjured side and placed his arm around the man's back, but he felt a tremble so severe that he thought his friend might be suffering some sort of fit.

"No," Ezra said. "Ah…Ah n … need one m … moment," the gambler said.

"You get hit?" Chris asked. He knew that Ezra had to have experienced at least a few more bruises in this just finished melee, but he didn't think he had been shot.

"No," he answered quietly. Even more softly, Ezra admitted, "Ah d … do not … be … be … believe Ah will … dis … distinguish mahself … if Ah sh … should m … move sss … sss … so … sss … soon."

"Nathan!" Chris called urgently as he rubbed Ezra's shoulders and arms; he could feel a slight fever as his face leaned in close to Ezra's, but the rest of his body seemed icy-cold. The loud, staccato footfall of the tall black man echoed as he made his way up the steps. He sat down next to the hurt lawman; the healer didn't seem to care that he was sitting in the blood and the gore of what had just transpired.

"B … Blood," Ezra warned. His trembling was persistent, his teeth chattering.

"I know. How are you doing?" Nathan asked as he tore his own coat off and, with Chris' assistance, got the outer garment draped over the shocked man's shoulders. Ezra shrugged it away as best he could.

"B … Blood," he complained again. "Your h … haber … d … dashery will be r … ruined."

"Another stain ain't gonna matter. Where're ya hurt?" Nathan asked as he checked his patient for new injuries other than the obvious cut to his face.

Ezra realized that the overwhelming cold he felt had easily distracted him from the earlier nausea. The worst, though, was remaining on the steps covered in blood and likely some of the flesh of the nearby dead men.

"Ah … could … Ah … c … cannot sit … heah … ," Ezra replied, not answering the question about injuries. "The blood … " he added, but stopped talking as he yelped in pain as Nathan prodded the area where Fordham had taken his frustration out on Ezra numerous times, including the steady pressure of a cocked gun pressed hard into the same already injured area.

"N … Nathan!" Ezra shouted in pain. Chris held tighter to his friend who, though not truly capable of getting up on his own at the moment would likely try to in order to get the poking fingers away from his sore abdomen. The blond glared at Nathan, knowing that Ezra would prefer all of these examinations to be done outside the view – and earshot - of the citizens of Four Corners.

"All right. We'll look at that more when we get ya back inside."

"No."

"Whaddya mean, 'no'," Chris asked.

"Bl … Blood. Bath."

"It was close to a bloodbath, but it wasn't like they didn't ask for it," Buck said as he, Josiah and Vin showed up.

"Bath," Ezra said, more demanding, and hopefully clearer in his meaning.

"J.D.'s got the undertaker gatherin' up the dead," Vin said. "We'll get the bodies and the blood cleaned up. Got the one survivor in the jail. Dave and Marty are guardin' 'im," the Texan added.

Ezra's sigh was loud and dripped with annoyance. "B … Bath."

"He means he wants a bath," Chris said, finally getting the hint. Ezra sighed again and rested harder against the man in black. He was far less concerned about Chris getting blood all over his clothes.

"Oh. All right." Nathan agreed to the bath, not only because it would get the awful gore off of his friend, but also because the hot bath would help the shock that had overtaken the injured man's senses.

"Josiah, help me get Ez over to the bath house. Buck, can you go get a change of clothes for him?"

"Sure, Nate." The preacher was in place before the handsome mustachioed man could take a step away. They stared at one another, Josiah's bulk blocking Buck's way. Ezra giggled. Chris held him tighter, knowing that the con man was heading somewhere he didn't want to be seen. The extra touch quieted Ezra down. Buck made his way down the stairs, happy to get away from the smell and the sight of the carnage. There would be a lot of work to clean up that mess. Buck shivered at the thought as he made his way to Ezra's room over the saloon.

* * *

><p>"It wasn't Abner," the former gunslinger said as he approached the table.<p>

"Whaddya mean?" Buck asked as he downed a forkful of eggs and potatoes. Ezra sat at the table, as did Vin. The poker player, who wasn't a huge eater to begin with, pushed his food around on his plate, seemingly disinterested in Chris' new information. Vin had already finished his breakfast and was on his third biscuit.

Chris sat down with his friends. "Just got a telegram from the sheriff in Durango. Abner was still in jail when all those Fordhams came to town."

"Then who was it?" the former bounty hunter asked. "Looked jest like 'im. Little younger, maybe."

"I just came from Mary's. Abner Fordham has … had a twin brother, Franklin."

"So that's who the undertaker has?"

"Yeah," Chris said, followed by, "Buck, did J.D. match the rest up to wanted posters?"

"Yep. All Fordhams, all wanted."

Ezra was finally following the conversation; he had lots of time to … he certainly wasn't eating. As he listened, the lines on his brow grew deeper and his expression more worried with each passing moment.

"What's wrong, Ez?" Vin asked. The tracker had been watching his friend, worried that he wasn't eating, but now more worried as his friend's demeanor changed.

"Mistah Larabee, you said that Abner Fordham was _still_ in jail as yesterday's events unfolded. Is that particular phraseology purposeful?"

Buck and Vin looked at each other, trying to decide between themselves which one would ask what the hell Ezra just said.

"He wants to know if 'still' means that he ain't in jail anymore," Chris said, translating the well-spoken southerner's question.

"Well? Does it, old pard?" Buck asked. He had known Chris a very long time and was one of the few people who could, on occasion, actually read the intent on Chris Larabee's face, though all of the rest of the lawmen had learned that what once seemed inscrutable was in fact an indicator of things to come. "Aw, hell," Buck said.

"He's out. Don't know how," Chris replied. "Did J.D. say whether there were other Fordhams still out there?"

"No. Don't know if he checked," Buck answered.

"Ah have confidence that Mistah Dunne would be certain to verify the existence of more of this family of miscreants, as their apparent desire to bring harm to some of us also allows for the possibility of harm coming to our fair town's innocent citizens," Ezra said, his cadence unusually slow. He seemed especially tired this morning, and clearly had no appetite. Buck looked both worried and confused; J.D. hadn't mentioned anything about Abner having a twin. He looked to Ezra and knew immediately that he was thinking the same thing, and despite all that had happened, was still covering for the boy.

"Ya best eat that," Vin warned. "Nathan's comin'," he added as he saw the black man and the big preacher crossing the street to the saloon. Ezra glared at his friend's suggestion, placed his fork onto the still-full-of-food plate, and then pushed the plate to the center of the table.

"Ah did not order it and therefore have no compunction to eat it," the still-healing man replied dryly.

"You'll be eating it or something else," Chris ordered. "Best decide what it's gonna be." Ezra raised weary eyes to his annoying boss and grabbed a biscuit from the basket. He tore off a piece and placed it unenthusiastically in his mouth. Buck, knowing that Nathan would chastise their recovering friend for leaving a full plate of food untouched, pulled Ezra's plate in front of himself and started in on his second breakfast. He ate it with gusto, despite the fact that everything had cooled well below a temperature that one would normally appreciate for steak, eggs, and potatoes.

"Hey! I was gonna do that!" Vin protested.

"Need to be faster, slick," Buck said as he chewed on a mouthful of potatoes.

"Brothers," Josiah offered in greeting those already sitting down to their breakfast.

"Mornin'," Nathan said, followed immediately by, "Should have somethin' more substantial, Ez."

They all exchanged their morning hellos and, not surprisingly, Ezra ignored the comment the healer sent his way.

"I trust John Dunne is getting some rest?" Josiah asked as he accepted a mug of coffee from Inez.

"Yeah, but we might have more trouble comin'," Chris told the new arrivals.

"Hell, Chris, trouble's sittin' right here at this table," the former preacher said as he gently patted Ezra's back. Vin and Buck smiled at the joke, as did Nathan, though it was hard to see as he chewed his biscuit with jam. Chris and Ezra found nothing funny about the situation.

"That wasn't Abner who died out there. It was his twin, and Abner escaped from the Durango jail late yesterday," Chris explained. The statement also explained to them why Chris and Ezra found no humor in the joke.

"Are there more Fordhams out there? Did they bust Abner out?" Nathan asked. Chris looked over to Buck, who was still finishing Ezra's breakfast.

"I'll … um … go check with the kid," Buck offered as he shoveled the remainder of his second breakfast into his mouth. He stood, wiped any remnants of food from his face with his napkin, and stepped away from the table and out the batwing doors.

"Does no one wish to inform Mistah Wilmington of the … bits still on his moustache?" Ezra asked. He stopped eating halfway through his biscuit. He quite obviously cared not that the man who had been caring for his injuries kept giving him not-at-all surreptitious glances.

"Didn't notice," Vin said.

"Wasn't watching," Josiah added.

"Me, neither," Nathan agreed.

"If it's important to you, maybe you should follow him and talk to him about it," Chris suggested.

"Yes, Buck's inability to remain groomed beyond the breakfast hour is utmost of mah concerns this day." Ezra took a deep breath and then added, "Ah regret to leave you gentlemen another man short, with Mistah Dunne takin' a well-earned sleep, but Ah … Ah …." The gambler blinked fiercely, as though trying to focus. He placed his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand. "Ah am not feelin' well." He rose and said, "Ah b'lieve Ah shall return to mah room." He turned and proceeded to tip right into Chris' back.

"Whoa," Vin said as he grabbed for the ailing lawman. He helped Ezra back into his seat. Nathan jumped from his chair and went to his friend.

"What else are ya feelin', Ezra, other than dizzy?" Nathan asked.

"Overall just … ill and sore," he admitted. "Ah am certain Ah will be fine."

"Brother Ezra has had a bit of a time of it lately," Josiah said worriedly as he sat beside his sick and injured friend.

"I'm gonna help Ez back to his room, check him over. He's probably right, just needs to rest up, give himself a chance to heal." The kind and concerned man, who except for the color of his skin would most certainly be a doctor by now, added, "Josiah, when you're done, can you go get some willow bark, the one that's mixed with the feverfew? Inez can heat up a pot for Ezra."

"Yes, indeed, that will most assuredly assist in keeping mah breakfast from makin' a reappearance."

"Ain't hardly ate nothin'. Shouldn't be a problem," Vin observed.

Inez showed up, having overheard the conversation. "I will add some honey and … I will find something else to make it taste better," she said. She placed her hand on Ezra's forehead. "He is a little warm." Her hand remained in place longer than necessary, but then she relinquished her touch to gather up plates from the table and headed back to the kitchen.

"She meant _hot_," Ezra said, "as in, 'My, what a fine specimen of a man'." His friends all laughed, which brought on the first real smile they'd seen from the poker player all morning.

"Let's go get you settled in your room," Nathan said to his perpetual patient. "I shouldn't be long," he said, addressing Chris.

"We'll meet at the jail in thirty minutes."

At the appointed time, Nathan strode into the jailhouse. Everyone was there, including Dave Landon and Marty Ellison.

"He all right?" Chris asked.

"He's been better. Just needs time," Nathan replied.

"All right. Well, we're all here. What do we know, J.D.?" Chris started. It was a cold December morning, so with eight men gathered, the one log that had been placed in the stove in order to cut the chill was left to burn alone. It would warm up soon enough.

"I, um, I didn't check for anything other than to identify the ones who were killed and the one we captured. I should've … "

"Yeah, J.D., you should have," Chris interrupted, disappointed and long finished with worrying about anyone outside of The Seven knowing it. Marty and Dave watched quietly but said nothing.

"Me and J.D. talked. He knows he needs to be more thorough. He's still upset 'bout … well … you know," Buck said, not finishing his thought.

"I'd think that'd be a reason to be more alert, investigate further," Vin offered as a subtle admonishment of the young easterner.

"Now Vin … " Buck began in reply, but Chris cut him off.

"Vin's right. J.D., you stick with Buck for the next couple of days. Marty, you'll be at the jail. Dave, you're at the church. Josiah, you're at your regular spot in the church tower, Vin on Gloria's roof, Nathan at the livery."

"Chris, I can take Ezra's spot," J.D. challenged.

"No," the leader said as he stepped through the exit. Everyone dispersed from the jail to their appointed locations around town.

"I really messed up, Buck," J.D. said as he looked to his best friend.

"Yeah. No two ways about it, kid. You lost that respect you gained these last few years, and you lost their trust." J.D. nodded and then looked into Buck's eyes, asking the question with just one look; there was no need to verbalize it. The young man seemed worried, even fearful of hearing what the ladies' man would say next.

"Me, too." The lean gunman watched as a tear fell down J.D.'s cheek. "That don't mean you can't earn it back." The youngest member of The Seven did not speak, though he nodded his head once more. "J.D., look at me." He did. Their eyes met. "They want you to do that."

"I don't think they do, Buck. Least not Chris and Ezra. I can't blame them."

"Well, J.D.," Buck said as he placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, "you are the only one who can decide if you want to, if the hard work it'll take to convince Chris that you can be trusted is worth it."

"What about Ezra?"

"There ain't no denyin' that you hurt him, hurt him pretty bad. You and I both know that Ez is a good man, but he's had a lifetime of trusting, and then bein' disappointed from doin' so. Figure he thought that once he and Nate took that final step to friendship that he'd found a place where he belonged, where he knew he had six men who cared about him and would always have his back. Might take Ezra longer to come around."

"Then I guess I'll just have to work harder to show him that he can rely on me," J.D. said as he wiped the tears from his face.

"That's the right attitude, kid." Buck looked around the town. He found Vin up on top of the mercantile, knew that Josiah would be up in the church steeple soon enough. Everyone else was likely already in position. "You and me, we've got some patrolling to do. "Let's head to the church and walk up and down the alleys on this side, then we'll do the same on the other."

"All right. Still don't see why Chris won't … "

"J.D., you'd best let that rest. You want Chris to trust you, you're gonna have to accept that he's in charge and abide by his decisions. You can't do nothin' worse right now than challenge him on that." J.D. nodded his head. The two men began their circuit of the town.

The day ended uneventfully, with five of the regulators stopping in to visit with Ezra before turning in. Chris took time to work through the schedule for covering the town for the next twelve hours. Robert Merton, who had postponed the start of the cattle drive for a couple of days for a cattle drive that was already starting weeks later than normal – a price he was willing to pay for running a successful ranch - had agreed to pay his men half wages for another day in order to be available to The Seven, payments that would be made so long as the men kept to the camp just outside town and agreed to not overburden the drinking establishments in the town proper. He would be taking the evening shift, followed by Dave Landon, who had gone to bed early. Josiah, always up with the first hint of daylight, would take over at dawn.

"Did you see him?" Chris asked Josiah and Vin. He looked up when he heard boots on the staircase and saw Buck making his way down from Ezra's room above the saloon.

"Yeah. He's got a slight fever and that area along the side of his stomach is botherin' him," Vin said.

"Nate's worried," Josiah said. "Might be some internal trouble, maybe bleeding."

"He won't eat," Buck said as he sat down with his friends. "Nathan says the pain in his side is bad enough that he thinks Ezra just ain't gonna eat until he's healed. He said no cajolin' so far has convinced Ez to take any more food. He said Inez brought some eggs and toast up to him with that tea this mornin', and it all came back up."

"All right. I'm headin' up," Chris said. "Robert's got the first shift tonight. Buck, go meet with him and give him an update on the day before you head to bed." Chris paused and then asked, "Where's J.D.?"

"Sleepin'. Says he's too embarrassed to talk to Ez right now." Nathan heard the comment as he reached the bottom step.

"He's too sick to deal with J.D. right now, anyway. Inez is with him," the healer added, prepared for Ezra's friends' worry that he not be left alone for any length of time until all of the Fordhams, known and unknown, were dealt with. "She needs to come down and close up, though."

"I'm headin' up to see him. I'll stay with him tonight," Chris informed the group.

"All right," every one of his fellow lawmen said at the same time.

Buck snorted, "Is it possible we're all hanging out together too much?" The smile he started with fell as he realized that J.D. wasn't there to appreciate the moment.

"All of you, go get some rest," Chris ordered.

"Send for me … " Nathan began.

"I will," Chris interrupted as he pressed his hand warmly into his friend's shoulder. "Get some sleep."

Chris climbed the stairs and let himself in to Ezra's room to find the man well-awake. Inez sat on the edge of the bed, but stood as the leader of The Seven entered the room.

"I'll stay for the night. I know you have to go downstairs," he said to the pretty Mexican woman and Ezra's on again-off again love interest.

"I do," Inez replied. "Come get me if he needs anything.

"Thank you, Inez," Ezra said tiredly. The woman who held Ezra's heart smiled at the southerner and left the two men alone.

"So?" Chris asked.

Ezra made no attempt to hide the frustrated sigh. "Ah … cannot sleep," the slowly healing lawman said.

"Why? You look like you could pass out any second."

"Thank you," Ezra replied with a hint of amused sarcasm.

"What's wrong?" Chris asked as he positioned Ezra's nice rocking chair to the side of the bed. He placed it such that he would be able stretch his long legs up on the foot of the bed. It was an action that told the sharp-eyed man that his friend from Indiana was planning on spending the night.

"Ah am worried about J.D."

"Figured that was part of it."

"Ah have been wonderin' what might have caused this aberrant behavior in our young charge."

"First thing, Ezra, J.D. ain't our 'young charge'. He's been in the thick of things with us for three years now. He's a man, he's his own man, and he's responsible for his actions."

Ezra sighed as he lay in his bed, pillows propping him up, but not so much that he couldn't fall asleep, if he could manage to do so. Everything that Chris said was true. Ezra knew that he and Buck, and on occasion Josiah, gave J.D. the benefit of the doubt due to perceived youth and inexperience and, though J.D. could have been considered a green horn by any definition three years ago, that appellation no longer held true. Frustrated at his continued illness and injury and inability to think as clearly as he'd like because of it, Ezra lay the back of his hand over his eyes and shook his head. He looked to Chris and said, "Something needs to be done for him."

Chris kept his thoughtful gaze on Ezra. He knew the man had much more to say, but between bone-weariness and being sick and hurt, and annoyed with himself, however illogical that specific feeling was, the former gunslinger wasn't sure he would get much more out of Ezra this night, and he was definitely sure that he shouldn't bother trying. But there was something about this entire situation, and particularly about Ezra's reaction to it, that puzzled Chris. Ezra closed his eyes, seemingly headed toward sleep. _'Good,'_ Chris thought. That would give him more time to contemplate all that had gone on lately, Ezra's part in it … and what to do about J.D.

* * *

><p>When Ezra woke the next morning, he found both Chris and Buck eating breakfast in his room. He also realized he felt significantly better than he had the previous night.<p>

"Gentlemen."

"Once you got to sleep, you slept real good," Chris noted, followed by a draw from his cup of coffee.

"Ah feel … surprisingly bettah," Ezra admitted. "To what do I owe this early-morning visit? Do you really deem it necessary to wake the convalescing at … what time is it, exactly?"

"That's a familiar refrain," Buck said with a smile on his face.

"Mah … aah … apologies," Ezra said, interrupted by a yawn. "Twice over," the former con man said, followed by another yawn.

"Don't do that, Ez. You're right, shoulda left ya to your rest. It's seven thirty," Buck answered.

"Ah could tell," Ezra returned, followed by even another yawn.

"Figured there's more you could tell," Chris challenged.

"That is likely true of any topic you gentlemen care to discuss with me."

"Today's topic is J.D.," Chris said.

"A continuation of last evening's discussion?"

"Sort of," Buck said. Ezra looked from Buck to Chris. At closer inspection, Ezra wondered if the tall blond had managed any sleep at all last night. "How long have you known that J.D. was fakin' it out there?"

"Within just a few minutes of bein' attacked," Ezra answered honestly.

Buck leaped from the borrowed saloon chair. "Why didn't you say somethin'?" he demanded with more annoyance than was justified.

"Buck," Chris warned.

"Sorry. I ain't meanin' to blame or say that things woulda gone any different."

Ezra swiped his hand over his face in an attempt to wipe the tiredness away, but to also give himself a chance to gather his thoughts. "Buck, as you certainly recall, Ah was not at mah best at the time. _Ah_ was certainly _not_ fakin' that. Ah might well have been reading J.D.'s actions incorrectly. You are aware of how everything can seem one way with a head injury but in actuality be something completely different."

"He's right," Nathan said as he and Josiah joined them, trays of more food and coffee in their hands. They all heard Ezra's stomach growl. Josiah smiled and handed him a biscuit, then he and the healer found places to set the trays. Chris helped Ezra into a sitting position as the card sharp continued.

"As Ah was sayin', Ah saw no point in drawin' both your ire," indicating both Chris and Buck as he looked back and forth between both men, "and more of J.D.'s with an accusation Ah barely had the strength, both physically and cognitively, to defend." He quickly took a bite of the delicate, fluffy baked treat.

"It's good to hear you sound more like yourself, son," Josiah offered.

Ezra, always the gentleman and aware of proper manners, chewed what he had in his mouth before saying, "It pleases me as well." Nathan set the tray he had carried in onto the gambler's lap. The healing man dove into his breakfast, small and conspicuously absent of bacon and Inez's delicious onion-packed potatoes, despite the early hour, with relative gusto.

"Don't know, Ezra. You seem to have taken all these slights from J.D. better than I would have thought."

"I don't know, Nathan. Seems to me that Chris gave him long months, even years, to have honed his ability to withstand onslaughts from a friend." Chris' expression grew hard, but he conceded the truth of Josiah's words with a slight nod of his head.

Ezra, too, took on a hard look as he placed his fork on his plate. "That is old news, Mistah Sanchez. Chris and Ah have been fine long enough that it is indeed rude for you to have brought the matter up." He was feeling better and ready to take on whoever he needed to in order to defend a friend, even if that meant arguing with another one. Nathan wasn't too happy that the situation had distracted Ezra from his meal.

"I'm sorry. You're right, Ezra," Josiah said. "Chris, I am sorry." The leader of the team of men who defended the town of Four Corners just offered a faint nod of the head. They all knew that it was unlikely for Chris to forget that Josiah brought the topic up. But what Ezra said next would likely ease the tension, as it was something they all agreed with, even if Buck needed a little help with the translation.

"As much as Ah appear mercenary in mah business dealings, Ah believe you all know by now that Ah hold friendship as sacrosanct. It has taken me mah entire life to arrive at that realization. Ah was only able to find mah way to that conclusion at the tutelage of six disparate men who Ah met in passing in a dusty backwater town in the high desert. Ah had never before experienced such feelings, such … brotherly feelings. Ah am … unwillin' to allow J.D. to lose what Ah have found, knowin' how Ah would feel if Ah now lost it."

"Not sure what some of those fine words mean, Ez, but I understood the last part real good," Buck said with a warm smile, gratitude shining through from the ladies' man's expressive eyes.

"That's all good to say, but we got to figure out what it is that's distracting J.D. from his work," Nathan said. "Can't be havin' y'all in my clinic for these kinds o' reasons. Got enough legitimate reasons to see you there."

"You are always welcome to treat me in the comfort of mah own room, Mistah Jackson," Ezra wryly replied as he took his napkin to his mouth unnecessarily. He looked over the napkin, only his eyes and the top of his nose showing, the eyes twinkling with mischief. Ezra's friends laughed, even Nathan, happy to see the wily poker player so obviously feeling better.

"Not sure we have time to address this until Fordham makes his move," Chris said.

"Can't know for sure that he's headin' here," Josiah said.

"He's comin'. He's lost his family. Needs to get the nephew out, needs to get his revenge, even if it ain't nobody's fault but his own that most of his kin are dead." Chris paused and then added, "He's comin'." The blond man looked out the window, deep in thought.

"It ain't the same, Chris," Buck said. Chris kept staring out the window as though he hadn't heard his old friend; everyone in the room understood that he had.

"Revenge is something altogether different from justice, Chris," Ezra said. That got Chris' attention.

"Is it?" the former gunslinger asked, not turning from the clearly mesmerizing vista out Ezra's window.

"It is. As you are aware, mah dear mothah would say that appearances are everything. Ah am thankful that she is not here to see me now," he added with an embarrassed grin. "But whereas she is correct, in her own shallow way, to paraphrase her thinkin' in this situation, circumstances are everything when determining whether actions are revenge or justice."

Chris shook his head, just barely. It was likely only Ezra had really noticed it. He turned to look at the convalescing man in the bed. "You got an answer for everything, don't ya?" Chris asked with a sad smile.

"Ah like to think that Ah always have the _right_ answer," the southerner replied quickly, smartly. Chris and Ezra shared a long look. There was little doubt that the shared thoughts went something like, 'Thanks, Ez' followed by 'No need to thank me for stating the truth.'

"All right. If everyone is finished eating, we all got places to be."

"Very well, Mistah Larabee. If you gentlemen would assist me out to the boardwalk, Ah will set mahself in position to defend against these wrongdoers."

"Like hell," Nathan said as he was echoed around with room with 'No', and 'Not gonna happen' and a hearty snort of laughter from Chris, Josiah and Buck, respectively.

"Ah am well-able to defend … "

"Ezra, the fact that you stayed awake for one meal, part of one meal," Nathan started as he gave Josiah the evil eye, "does not mean that you are healed. Ya can't run 'cause of your foot, you ain't likely done with the dizziness, and takin' another hit to your side ain't gonna do you no good," Nathan finished, taking a deep intake of breath after haranguing his patient.

"In other words, hoss, stay in bed," Buck said, taking his own turn to translate.

Ezra sighed but didn't seem inclined to fight. He knew that he wasn't healed but, with J.D. acting so erratically, he wanted to be available to defend his fellow lawmen … his friends, and his town, but he also knew that Robert, Dave and Marty were all good and reliable men. His eyes blinked heavily. He heard his friends conversing, even understood some of the words, here and there, but suddenly the sound was unintelligible and distant. And soon thereafter, he was back asleep, snoring lightly.

"Stayed awake long enough to get a little food in 'im," Buck said sadly. "Just like him to want to be part of the action."

"We used to think our brother lazy," Josiah mused.

"He's got a practical nature about him. Wants to get the job done," Nathan offered.

"Yeah, so that he can move on to more 'pleasurable endeavors'," Chris said, using his best Ezra Standish accent for that last part.

Josiah laughed. "In many ways, hedonism is highly underrated." They laughed quietly as they removed the food from the room and left Ezra to his nap.

* * *

><p>Chris sat in front of the jail for the second straight day. There had been no sign of Abner Fordham in that time. Christmas was fast approaching and Judge Orrin Travis was due in the next day and would likely be sending the nephew, Chester, on to the Yuma territorial prison the day after. He had a transport heading north from Silver City with another prisoner; diverting it a couple of hours to go through the town where his daughter-in-law and grandson lived in order to remove a violent criminal from their midst was a simple and justifiable diversion of the prison truck.<p>

"Reckon today's the day," Vin said as he joined his friend on the boardwalk.

"I think it's a bad idea that the judge has a regular schedule here, all over the territory, and I'm tellin' him so when I see him."

"Makes it easier for the likes o' Fordham to find out where he is and where he's headin'."

"He's supposed to have extra protection whenever he travels. Figure he ain't inclined to see reason 'til one of them gets shot," Chris said, clearly annoyed at having one more thing to worry about.

Vin took a step down, his body facing Gloria Potter's storefront. He didn't look back when he asked, "Same plan for today?"

"Yep."

"J.D. been ta see ya?" the tracker asked.

"No, but Buck has. They're still patrolling together," Chris informed his friend.

"How long you plannin' … "

"I don't know, Vin. Could be until I actually see that he wants to do his job."

"That's fair enough, from what I can see," the former bounty hunter agreed with an accompanying nod of the head. "See you later."

"Watch yer back," Chris called. The two men had become close very quickly after that first skirmish at the Seminole village over three years ago. It reminded him of how effortlessly he and Buck just fell into an easy friendship. He hoped that Vin was never forced to see him through a hell like Buck had. Chris Larabee was a lucky man to call men like Buck Wilmington and Vin Tanner friend, even when one of them was mad at him for something as simple as calling his horse a mule. He knew that if he needed them to, that Vin would be right there with Buck to pull him out of the fires of Hades if he were unfortunate enough to ever find himself there again.

"Hey, Chris," Buck called as he and J.D. walked up to the jail.

"Fellas."

"We're just checkin' in," Buck said as J.D. stood silently beside him.

"Today'll be Abner's last chance before the judge gets here. He won't want to wait until then. Waiting brings two more armed men, plus Travis and his rifle."

"We'll keep our eyes open," Buck assured his friend.

"Good." Chris turned to look at Buck's shadow. "How're you doin', J.D.?"

"Fine."

"All right," Chris said, though he knew from the clipped response that the young man was holding his tongue. He could tell from the pained look on J.D.'s face that he felt as far from fine as he possibly could. "Watch yer backs."

Chris headed to the saloon to check in on how Ezra was doing. Nathan met him at the bottom of the staircase that was festively adorned with pine boughs and pine cones as well as shiny silver and gold rope, an Ezra Standish touch, no doubt.

"How's he doin'?"

"Still has a higher fever than I like to see. Seems to feel better. Inez made him some scones and peach jam. Ate it right up," Nathan said with a smile.

Chris laughed. "Man loves his peaches. Wonder if I can get some."

"There were a couple left, but Vin's with him."

"So I'm shit outta luck?"

"I would say so. I'm heading over to the clinic, and then I'll get in place."

"All right. Thanks, Nate." He headed up the stairs, tapped softly on the door and called, "It's Chris."

"Come on in," Vin called, a muffled sound, his mouth clearly occupied by something other than just talking.

Chris walked in and found both Vin and Ezra busy enjoying the scones and jam and coffee. "Any of that left for me?"

Ezra swallowed, looked to the former bounty hunter and said, "Sorry, Vin."

"Nah, that's fair. It's what we agreed," he added as he finished chewing and swallowed the last of his scone. "It's all yers, cowboy." Vin stood from his seat and stepped away and leaned against the wall near the window. "Have a seat," he added.

"Heard there was something special today."

"Mistah Larabee, Ah do believe that today Ah learned just how much Inez loves me," Ezra said with a broad smile as he waved his hand to the plate that used to contain scones but now only held one last breakfast treat. As Chris took the seat beside Ezra's bed, he leaned over and placed his hand on the former con man's forehead. Ezra huffed and rolled his eyes. Vin laughed. "Ah am not a child."

"I know. I'm just worried for ya. And what are you drinkin'? That ain't coffee."

"No," Ezra agreed, happy for the diversion away from the topic of his health. "It is tea, the drink a civilized society imbibes when enjoying the English delicacy before you. Please, take the last one. Ah have some left here and I Ah am feelin' quite satisfied. Do not forget the jam, it is quite delicious. Gloria Potter ordered it from Georgia, bless her."

"This pot here is coffee, though, ain't it?" Chris asked as he grabbed a cup from the tray and poured himself some of the dark brew.

"Heathen."

"Reckon," Chris agreed as he spread the jam over one half of his scone and took his first bite. "Mmmm," was distinctly heard as he savored the flavors and textures in his mouth longer than was typical for the man. Food was normally something that Chris Larabee found was just a necessity of life, not something to necessarily be enjoyed, at least not unless Ezra was making one of his grand meals … or Inez made something for the man she loved.

"Good, ain't it?" Vin asked. If he didn't possess the self-control that he did, he'd be drooling in front of his two friends.

"I'm finishing it," Chris warned. "Just stay where ya are." Ezra laughed.

"They are wonderful, are they not?" Chris just nodded as he took a small part of the scone and placed it in his mouth without the peach spread. "The only thing that could possibly improve this meal is some clotted cream. Maybe the next time."

"Don't know what that is," Chris said. "Can't imagine this getting much better."

"Well, maybe we can come up with some. Ah shall speak with Mistah Arlen about tryin' a recipe sometime." The local dairy farmer did what he could to keep milk available to the town, but it seemed a losing effort as the town grew larger. The children needed their milk, so did some of the restaurants, and J.D. Dunne was known to imbibe more than his fair share; it would be rare for there to be any left for most adults in the town. He knew that he would have to try now that his lovely Inez was able to make scones of this quality.

"When yer feelin' better," Vin said.

"Of course," Ezra said. It seemed that just that quickly, Ezra's energy level had plummeted. He sank back into the pillows piled behind him.

"It'll be a while before you're back a hundred percent, Ezra. You don't need to be worrying about it."

"Ah cannot seem to help mahself, Chris. Ah worry for you, mah friends, and for the townspeople. Ah look forward to the day when worryin' about Fordhams is a thing of the past."

"We all do, Ez."

"Ah know, Mistah Tanner." Ezra looked from Vin to Chris. "So, the same thing for today?"

"Yep. He'll be here."

"Yes, well, as Ah hope to be of some assistance, Ah shall take a quick rest and then Ah will take position at mah window."

"No ya won't."

"Ah would doubt that you have enough men to stop me, the protection of the town being of utmost importance," Ezra challenged.

"We don't need to be here," Chris said. A knock was heard at the door. Vin opened it.

"Mornin', Miss Nettie."

"Good lord!"

"Quiet down, Fancy Pants."

* * *

><p>His already tired state, being sated by several of the delicious scones, and the shock of Nettie Wells showing up to babysit him had Ezra succumb quickly to the lethargy he was beginning to feel when Chris and Vin were still in his room. As he began to stir from his sleep, he suspected that Inez had drugged him, but he knew that wasn't the case. He ached all over and he knew this lingering lassitude was due to taking one too many blows from one too many criminals in far too short of a period of time. He blinked his eyes, started to stretch but wisely curtailed the movement because it just hurt too damned much.<p>

"You finally wakin' up?" he heard from across the small room.

"Madame, Ah would suggest that 'finally' is open to interpretation."

"You might be right, Mr. Standish, some other time, but not today."

Ezra _finally_ opened his eyes for good, for now, and found the room dim, as it had been this morning when he shared his breakfast with two of his friends. "It seems that the day has not progressed much beyond mah fine morning meal."

"Appearances can be deceiving, I'm sure you've heard that before."

Ezra suddenly felt less confident in his estimate of the time of day. "Indeed Ah have." He tried to reach for his watch, but that attempt only brought on a sharp pain in his side.

"Don't bother. It's six-thirty. In the evening."

"It is not!" Ezra challenged the old rancher.

"You callin' me a liar?" she asked as she stepped up to the bed and sat in the chair. Ezra looked around and found that there was a certain lived-in appearance to Nettie's things. Her knitting was sitting along his side on the bed, a book lay open on the table near the window where she had obviously spent time as well. A tray with an empty cup and a plate with crumbs on it were easily identified as the remnants of the woman's afternoon meal. He put his hand up to his head and found a damp cloth there. He began to remove it, but Nettie took it from his hand and placed it on the edge of the bowl of water on the nightstand beside his bed.

"Ah … uh … of course not, dear lady." He looked her in the eyes but quickly turned his head away.

"Now what's that all about?" Nettie asked. His face had turned red, he was clearly embarrassed.

"Ah apologize for keepin' you here all day." He turned to look at her again. "You have been here all day, am Ah correct in at least that assumption?"

"Yes, I have. Ain't nothin' to be feelin' ashamed of. Your temperature spiked somethin' worrisome. Mr. Jackson asked me to stay and keep an eye on ya. You been out but good all day."

"Really?"

"Still got a fever. Mr. Jackson isn't sure why it keeps fluctuatin' like it's been doin'. Thinks maybe you need to take it real easy until it passes." She handed the handsome man a glass of water. "Drink up. Ain't been able to get any water down ya, and ya sweated enough off today that you gotta feel parched."

"Thank you," he said as he eagerly took a careful swallow or two. "Ah have not been awake all day?" He didn't feel especially grungy, as one might expect after a day filled with perspiring in bed. He figured he had Nettie to thank for keeping him cool and comfortable.

"No. You mumbled some in your sleep, but couldn't understand a word you were sayin'. Inez said you said a few things in Spanish and French, nothin' I recognized, but you were also talkin' somethin' she didn't recognize." Ezra's eyes were saucers as Nettie told the story of his day. She leaned in closer and said, "Teachin' your girl some French in your _down_ time, are ya?" He coughed as his shock at Nettie Wells asking such a question had him send some of the water down the wrong side of his throat. He moaned as the coughing aggravated his myriad bruises. "Sorry. It ain't my business. Didn't mean ta hurt ya, son."

"No," he said, followed by some more coughing. "It is quite all right." He breathed in carefully, coughed a little more, and then settled back onto his pillows. "Inez is … "

"Hell, boy, I weren't born yesterday. I know she's your girl and I know ya care about her. Gets lonely after a while. I ain't judgin' anyone who finds love."

"You are far more … open-minded than many," he replied.

"Ain't that. Just think people who should be together shouldn't be kept apart, that's all."

"She has been a fine student, and she has enhanced mah own abilities in her native tongue as well." Nettie smiled widely; Ezra noticed the lascivious look in her eyes. "No, Ah mean … _that_ is definitely _not_ what Ah meant." Nettie laughed heartily.

"I know. Just funnin' ya."

"Hilarious," Ezra agreed sarcastically.

"You _will_ feel embarrassed when I tell you about the other."

"The other?" the southerner asked worriedly.

The door opened just as Nettie said, "The singin'." She looked to the men coming in the door and said mischievously, "I thought you boys said he couldn't sing?"

The other members of The Magnificent Seven barged into the room.

"Well look who finally woke up," Buck said with a happy grin. He looked from Ezra to Nettie and then back to Ezra. "What, were you serenading Miss Nettie?" he asked as a large sprig of mistletoe dangled from his hat.

Ezra smiled at the decoration, no doubt a gift from Miss Hazel or another of Buck's long list of lady friends, to replace the one that Buck had lost, but then quickly frowned as he answered the question. "Ah am certain that Missus Wells will have to provide you with an answer."

"In his fevered sleep, pretty as could be."

"What you sang at Wickestown sher wasn't pretty," Josiah said.

"Ah was tryin' to feign a woman's voice. It is no wonder that it was less than appealin' to the ear," the 'singer' sniped in his own defense.

"'Bout time ya woke up. Glad yer feelin' better," Vin added as he took a seat at the foot of the bed. He was careful not to jostle it, knowing that his friend was still healing. "Evenin', Nettie."

"Good to see you boys," Nettie said in greeting as she watched to make sure that the man she'd spent all day caring for wasn't too upset by her letting his friends in on his _serenading_, as Buck called it. She knew that everything was all right between them as he caught her staring at him, and then sent her a wink and a smile. She started to gather her things as Ezra looked from one man to the next and then to Nettie. He shook his head and turned to Chris.

"Is it wise for all of you to be here in one place, Mistah Larabee? Is that outlaw Abner Fordham not still on the loose?"

"No, the outlaw Abner Fordham is comfortably sittin' in the jail with his nephew," Josiah said. "Robert's watching them tonight."

"Don't know that I'd say he's comfortable, after what J.D. did today," Vin said, kicking his boot up against the one of the man in question.

"We'll keep a guard on them night and day until the judge sentences them," Chris said.

"He will be performing a bench trial, then?" Ezra asked. He looked toward J.D. and saw that he was finding the floor fascinating.

"No point in wastin' time on gettin' together a jury. I doubt there's anyone in the territory that doesn't already think those men are guilty," Nathan said. "How're you feeling?" the healer asked his patient.

"Ah am fine, but Ah wish to hear more of how you apprehended the malefactor."

"He ain't fine," Nettie said. "He's better."

"Ah am fine enough to hear what has transpired today that has placed the final Fordham in our jail."

"Reckon we ought to let J.D. tell that story," Vin suggested. Ezra turned to look at their youngest member once more, the young man who had made them all question his place among their group over the last few days. J.D. met Ezra's eyes, and returned a happy, confident smile. It was truly amazing how much could change in just a few hours.

"Well, before you get started, I am going to excuse myself. I've already heard this story once. Right proud of ya, J.D. And thank you again, for what you did." The old lady stepped over to the man who had won over her niece's heart and gave him a warm hug.

"I only did what I had to, Mrs. Wells."

"You best start calling me Nettie, son," she said as she smiled at him. She took his hand, gave it a loving squeeze, and turned for the door.

"You are not headin' home this late, mah dear?" Ezra asked.

"No, no. Casey and me are stayin' at the hotel."

"That is a relief. Thank you, Mrs. Wells."

"No thanks needed. My reward is that you are all still with us," Nettie assured the men.

"I'll walk you to the hotel, Nettie," Vin said as he followed her to the door.

"It ain't necessary, but I know I can't talk you out of it. Goodnight, boys."

'Goodnight, Nettie' and 'Goodnight, Mrs. Wells' rang around the room.

"Be right back, boys," Vin said as he closed the door behind him.

"Well then. Let's hear this story my young friend," Ezra said to J.D.

"You know, I need to go check with Dave and Marty, thank them for all they did today," Chris said as he excused himself.

"And since I was there when it happened, and I promised Miss Sherrilyne a night … well, I made a promise. See you fellas later," Buck said as he moved easily in line and followed Chris out of the room.

"Ezra, I have to go check on Fordham and Casey, but I'll be back. Need to check you over, get you some supper," Nathan said as he stepped toward the door.

"I'll go let Inez know that she can bring up something soon," Josiah said.

"Wait," Ezra insisted. "Casey?" he asked.

"J.D.'ll tell you all about it," Nathan said. "I'll see you later, Ez."

"Well, Ah can't say as Ah have seen a room clear so fast since Ah placed that polecat in Mother's hotel," Ezra said with a wry smile. "A fond memory," he added.

"I knew that was you!" J.D. exclaimed.

"Of course it was me, J.D. Mah Mother was … well, let us not discuss that this evenin'. Tell me what happened with Fordham, but more importantly, is Miss Casey all right?"

"Yeah. Abner came to town, came in while Buck and me were on the other side of town. He found Casey and held a knife to her throat. I tell ya, Ezra, I ain't never been so scared. We got to 'em and Chris and Nate and Dave all had their guns pointin' at him. They couldn't do nothin' without riskin' him cuttin' her bad. He didn't see me, and I had to do something. I aimed for his shoulder and fired. Only got him in the upper arm, but he dropped the knife. He put his arm around her neck and dragged her to the alley. When he was far enough in, he shoved her hard into the wall. She hit her head, fell to the ground. Got a big bump and bruise above her eye, but Nathan says she's gonna be fine. So does she. She's tough."

"She is indeed, Mistah Dunne. So, Fordham was able to get away at this point?"

"Only for a while. Nathan took care of Casey while me and Chris headed down the alley. Buck met up with Dave and went down the street to try to cut Abner off. We got to the end of the alley and Fordham started shooting. A ricochet knocked Chris' gun out of his hand. Fordham thought he had Chris dead to rights, but he didn't see me behind him. First time in my life that I was grateful to be so short." Ezra smiled at his young friend as he eagerly told the story of the apprehension of the last of the Fordham gang. It felt like the J.D. of old. He hoped this J.D. was here to stay.

"It does often work to their disadvantage, men as tall as Chris or large as Josiah," Ezra agreed.

"Or a behemoth, like Buck," J.D. said jokingly, knowing that Ezra would get the reference. Ezra smiled and J.D continued. Abner was all set to shoot Chris, but I pulled my gun and shot his gun out of his hand, just like Chris does. Abner's right handed, not amb … amba … "

"Ambidextrous," Ezra provided helpfully.

"Yeah, he ain't ambidextrous, like you. It's great you can shoot so good with both hands. Shots that come from my left hand are mostly just to scare people. Maybe you can show me how to be better from my left."

"Well, J.D., that is not something you usually can do. One is normally very good from both sides or not. But Ah do not wish to dissuade you. As they say, practice makes perfect, but of course, you would have to believe that it was worth the time you spend on it." Ezra had always thought that J.D. would do better to _not_ wear two guns, that his inclination to fan his guns might be due to one too many dime novels and not enough thinking about the consequences of his actions, and that keeping both guns in hand when he was only truly accurate with one was both naïve and dangerous behavior.

"Yeah. I'd need to think on that." Ezra observed J.D. as he spoke: wide-eyed, enthusiastic … happy. The easterner continued. "So, he got shot in his right shoulder and right hand and he didn't have nothin' left."

"So, you arrested him," Ezra encouraged.

"Not yet. He ran down the back alley. Couldn't believe it. I ran after 'im. You know, that's another thing about the bigger guys. Can't run real good," J.D. offered.

Ezra laughed out loud. "Ah would be wary of sayin' that to Chris' face," he said in friendly warning.

"I ain't tellin' him that. But I caught up to Fordham pretty fast. He's old and injured. Don't know what he was thinkin'. He picked up a two-by-four in the alley and was gettin' ready to hit whoever he heard comin' around the other alley. It could have been one of us, or some innocent kid just playin'. I was movin' real fast and I kind of flew through the air and knocked Abner hard in the back. We both fell onto a bunch of crates. Nathan said he cracked a rib."

"It sounds to me as though you cracked the rib for him."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." J.D. paused and took in Ezra as he lay in his bed. "I, um, I'm real sorry for what happened. It's my fault you got hurt, that you've been sick. I know it was awful what I did. I want you to know it will never happen again. Ever."

"Ah accept your assurances, J.D., but can you tell me why it happened in the first place?"

"I, um, I think I know now. I didn't know why at the time. But what happened to Casey today? I think I saw that what Vin said the other day might have been right. I was afraid." He paused and then said, "I asked Casey to marry me."

"Congratulations, J.D. That is wonderful news."

"Well, yeah. Thanks. You're only the second person who knows, well, after Casey and Mrs. Wells."

"Ah feel honored to be in the company of the ladies Wells and Buck."

"Yeah. Had to tell Buck. But anyway, I was thinkin' 'bout what would happen if I got into something with the bad guys after we got married. Thinkin' 'bout leaving her alone, like my ma. It seemed an awful thing to do when I know how it affected my ma to raise me all by herself." J.D. lowered his head and then looked back up to his hurt friend, the man who was in bed recovering because of his failings. "I wish I realized how dumb I was being before … "

"J.D.," Ezra started, but the young easterner sitting across from him prevented him from going on.

"No, don't tell me it's all right. It ain't all right. But I hope I can make it all right. I realized that today, doing what I did today, working with Chris and Buck … all of us. We watch each other's backs. That's why we're still here, right? We know lots of sheriffs that ain't around anymore, either because they've been killed or hurt too bad to keep at it. Some quit, and we all can understand why some can't keep going, but they don't have what we have. Each other."

"You have given this some thought."

"We've been worried about you and waitin' for you to wake up. Had some time to think over the last days, but once we took care of Fordham today, I seemed to see things more clearly."

Ezra's brow furrowed. "Precisely when did you apprehend Mistah Fordham?"

"Around ten or so this morning."

"Ah heard nothing," Ezra said in wonder that he could sleep through guns being fired and the general commotion that had to have gone on.

"Nathan says you were out cold."

"Ah do not understand this."

"I'm sorry."

"Please, Mistah Dunne. Ah accept your apology and believe it best that we forget all about this unfortunate series of events."

"Don't know if I can do that."

"Ah would be most grateful if you could try. You could make the effort of doin' so mah Christmas present." Right at that moment Ezra's stomach growled loud and long. Both men laughed.

"I already got ya somethin' for Christmas."

"Then maybe this year you will gift me with two presents," Ezra suggested.

"I'll try." The former con man's stomach growled even longer and louder this time. J.D. laughed. "And now I'll go see where Josiah is with your supper." As J.D. neared the door, he heard a heavy boot bang on it. "Sounds like 'siah's foot." He opened the door to find Josiah and Inez with two trays covered with towels.

"Stay put, son. There's enough food here for all of us," the big former preacher said as he took a long whiff of the aromatic supper and offered a huge smile. The man was ready to eat.

Inez set her tray down and said, "I will be right back with the drinks."

"A woman after mah own heart," Ezra admitted, smiling at the beauty before him.

"Not that kind of drink, at least not for you." Ezra's expression changed immediately, from that of a happy man ready to enjoy his first shot of whiskey in several days to one of a child who had lost his favorite toy. "That look will get you nowhere tonight." Inez looked to J.D. and Josiah and warned, "There will be nothing good to come for either of you if you give him what he asks." To Ezra she said, "You can have one beer. There will be coffee and tea and more water."

"Funny. She does not look like Nathan," Ezra said.

"Estúpido," the fiery Mexican said as she left the room.

"You learn that from Buck?" Josiah asked.

"Is that what he means by 'animal magnetism'?"

"Someone talkin' 'bout me?" the town Lothario said as he walked in the room.

Ignoring both Josiah and J.D., Ezra questioned, "Have none of you eaten yet?"

Vin, Nathan and Chris walked in with one more tray each, one with drinks, one with plates, utensils and napkins, as well as one more tray of food.

"We waited for you. Inez'll be bringing up the pie later," Chris said. He also held the tray with the liquor. Though the food smelled delicious, and Ezra was undoubtedly hungry, his mouth watered seeing the bottle that Inez had placed on the tray along with several mugs of beer, one of milk and two pitchers, one with water and the other with more beer.

"Forget it, Ez. You'll have one beer," Nathan said.

Ezra looked to J.D. "He does not look like Inez," he said. J.D. laughed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nathan demanded.

"One wonders if you and Inez were somehow borne of the same mothah or fathah."

"She already warned ya. Good." Ezra's stomach rumbled once more.

"Better get him fed," Vin said.

"Might think he hadn't had a decent meal in three days," Chris smirked.

"I thought you and me would be fightin' over what Ezra left on his plate, Vin. Guess not," Buck said with an amused smile.

"Gentlemen, Ah am right here." Again, sounds came from Ezra's gut that none of the men remembered ever hearing before.

"Someone put a plate of food in front of that man!" Buck said. Nathan picked the food that he thought Ezra could eat. He was grateful that it was real food and not some disgusting broth with even more disgusting herbs for pain relief and to help him sleep. The card sharp dove in, relishing the smoky flavors that Inez preferred in her cooking. And the beer tasted divine.

Several conversations were going on at once. Vin asked why Buck came back so soon from making his 'promise', Josiah checked in with Nathan on the well-being of Abner Fordham, Chris telling J.D. what a good job he did today. J.D.'s face flushed with the compliment, his cheeks nearly as red as some of the Christmas decorations that had transformed the drab dustiness of winter in the southwest to a truly festive, enjoyable place. He returned a heartfelt thank you, but assured them all that he was just doing his job. Nathan offered an annoyed telling of the ten minutes he'd spent checking over Fordham and assuring the man that his injuries would heal; he also related with pleasure that he explained to Abner that he would be healed enough to stand before the judge when he arrived. Vin and Buck stole food from each other's plates. Ezra's friends didn't notice him, not really, though he was fully aware of the details of every conversation. When Buck turned to J.D. and grasped his shoulder affectionately, Vin turned to Chris and asked how his hand was after the ricocheted bullet from earlier. Nathan answered the question for Chris, while Josiah told J.D. that he should be proud of what he did this day. Vin asked Buck if he was going to eat that plate of food or just keep talking and let it go cold. Every now and then, Ezra caught a glance from one of his friends, all of them apparently taking on the responsibility of making sure Ezra ate a decent meal, and did not imbibe any whiskey. Ezra Standish was old enough not to require such babysitting, but knowing that these men cared so much, as did people in the town like Nettie Wells, sent a warmth into his soul that trumped any feeling he could ever get from taking a drink of the forbidden nectar that hovered suspiciously close to Chris Larabee's hand. It had been a long time since he had spent Christmas without a bottle of some kind of liquor at his side, even the recent ones here in Four Corners. He needed the last year to understand his true place in this group, that he really belonged. It seemed that bottle would not be necessary this year, or at least he would not be drinking alone. It seemed Chris and Inez and Nathan, and all of his friends, truly had his best interests at heart. Despite all that had happened, despite all the pain and all the worry, it seemed this was truly going to be a merry Christmas.

"Hey Ezra, maybe you'll use that pretty voice and give us a song," Buck encouraged loudly. It was pretty clear that Buck wasn't holding back on imbibing the hard stuff.

"Only if you all sing along," Ezra suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Buck agreed as he held his shot glass out for a refill.

"Well," Ezra said as he watched his friends, other than J.D., heading to drunken revelry, "it seems a wassailing song would be most appropriate, but I doubt that any of you gentlemen would know the lyrics to any," and as an aside to J.D. said, "and even if they did, they would certainly do it no justice in their soon-to-be inebriated state." J.D. snorted, removing his milk just in time. "Ah believe, once we have finished our supper, that we will begin the caroling with 'Silent Night'."

"Tha's a good idea, Ezruh," Chris said.

Ezra and J.D. shared another look. "There ain't gonna be any caroling tonight, is there?" J.D. quietly asked his friend.

"No, not on this Christmas eve, but it is the thought, and good intentions, that mattah."

The End.


End file.
